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"We've a scrub nine playing against us.” 

Page GO. 




Ward Hill at Weston 


A Story of American School Life 



W 

EVERETT T; TOMLINSON 

n 

AUTHOR OF 

“ The Boy Soldiers of 1812 ” “ The Boy Officers of 1812 
“ Three Colonial Boys” “ Three Young Continentals ” 
“Tecumseh’ s Young Braves “ Washington's Young Aids 
'‘'‘Guarding the Frontier ” etc. 




PHILADELPHIA 

A. J. ROWLAND— 1420 Chestnut Street 
MDCCCXCVII 







Copyright 1897 by 
A. J. Rowland 


Jfrom tbc press of tbe 
Bmerican Kaptist publication Society 


PREFACE 


Who that has been fortunate enough to enjoy the 
orivileges of school life does not recall with a feeling 
jf special tenderness the break in life which came when 
he first left home? Behind him lay the love which 
shielded, the care which guarded, and the strength 
upon which he could rely. Before him was the un- 
known world of school life, in which he was forced to 
depend upon himself rather than upon others. Indi- 
rectly, all the past still aided, but alone he must meet 
the temptations and face the questions of right and 
duty. 

And school life has its own peculiar temptations, its 
own standards of right and wrong, and pronounces its 
own judgments. It has lessons outside the class-room, 
and teaches many things not outlined in the catalogue. 

Into this life, where a boy first finds himself thrust, 
he is often at a loss to know in which way to go. 
Then it is that the earlier lessons, learned in the home, 
aid in solving his problems ; but in the new surround- 
ings and the testings of power which are certain to 
come, and in the final decision as to the direction which 

3 


4 


PREFACE 


his life shall take, each boy is compelled to rely upon 
himself and not upon another. 

The basis of each chapter in this book is taken from 
real life, and I have endeavored to make it all conform 
to life as it is. Some of these chapters are not as I 
would have them, but I have tried to have them just 
as the life is. I have not drawn a moral, but trust 
that my readers will have no difficulty in drawing their 
own. Most healthy boys have an instinctive hatred of 
all that is cowardly and mean, not to say vicious and 
low ; and if in reading this record they shall be led 
to value the power of decision and of the bravery re- 
quired to adhere to what they believe to be right, the 
labor of preparing it will not have been in vain. In- 
deed, if the book can be said to have a purpose it is 
none other than that. 

I hasten to say also, that in tracing the course of 
one of the characters, I have not intended in the slight- 
est degree to reflect upon one of the highest and holi- 
est callings of life. Just because it is the highest and 
holiest of all, I believe that the young men who enter 
it ought to be those who adorn it. I very frankly ac- 
knowledge that I have followed the leadings of another 
writer in describing this special character, and yet — alas 
that I must say it — I have met him in my own life and 
taught him in my own classes. The contrast between 
him and some of the other boys who were seeking the 


PREFACE 


5 


same high calling is not overdrawn. It is only the 
valuable which is ever counterfeited. 

Success is not easily won. Every good thing has its 
own price, and only those who are willing to pay it, 
gain it. Even Zion is spoken of as a “ mount, ’ ’ and 
the life which does not go against the current is sure to 
go down the stream. 

It has been a pleasure to me to live over this life 
with the boys at Weston, and if the younger readers, 
and perhaps the older as well, share in this labor of 
love, it will be reward enough to know that it was not 
“ love’s labor lost.” 

Everett T. Tomlinson. 

1897. 



CONTENTS 


I. Entering Weston 9 

II. New Friends 18 

III. A Visitor 27 

IV. A Crash in West Hall 36 

V. In the Latin Room 45 

VI. The Conversation with the Doctor ... 54 

VII. New Plans 63 

VIII. Ned Butler’s Talk 72 

IX. An Interruption 82 

X. Big Smith’s Assertion 91 

XI. Word from the Burrs 100 

XII. The Game with the Burrs 109 

XIII. After the Game 119 

XIV. The Reception 128 

XV. A Word from Mr. Crane 137 

XVI. The Interview 146 

XVII. Mountain Day 155 

XVIII. The Night on the Summit 164 

7 


8 


CONTENTS 


XIX. The Fall 175 

XX. In East Hall 184 

XXI. The Cannon Ball 194 

XXII. The Limits 204 

XXIII. An Ancient and Venerable Order .... 213 
XXIV. The Start for Home 224 

XXV. Vacation 234 

XXVI. An Uninvited Guest 243 

XXVII. What Became of the Feast 252 

XXVIII. The Supper in Dorrfield 264 

XXIX. Big Smith Promises 274 

XXX. The Theft 284 

XXXI. The Voice of Warning 294 

XXXII. Another Loss 304 

XXXIII. The Contest 314 

XXXIV. Conclusion 325 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


CHAPTER I 

ENTERING WESTON 

I S this the stage for Weston ? ” 

“ Yes ; going to the academy? ” 

“ We hope to.” 

“That’s right,” and the speaker stretched forth his 
hand and gave a cordial shake to each of the two boys 
before him. “ Better give your checks to the driver and 
he’ll see to your trunks. Here, give them to me, and 
I’ll look after them for you. Where are you going to 
room ? ’ ’ 

“In West Hall.” 

‘ ‘ Here, Tom, take these checks and leave the trunks 
at West Hall. I suppose all the baggage will have to 
come over in another wagon, won’t it?” Their new 
friend had already taken their checks, and was talking 
familiarly with the good-natured Irishman who was the 
driver of the stage which ran between Weston and Dorr- 
field, its nearest railway station. 

“That’s what they will, Speckle. We’ve a crowd 
going over to-day,” replied the driver. 

‘ ‘ Have many of the fellows got back yet ? ’ ’ 


9 


10 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“Yes, Weston’s full of ’em ; they say it’s going to 
be a big year for the school. ’ ’ 

“Mighty glad to hear it. Now, fellows,” he said 
turning again to the boys, “let’s make for the top 
of his old cart ; that’s the place to be in, and we’ll have 
to be quick about it too.” 

In a moment all three of the boys scrambled up to 
the top of the lumbering old stage, and joined the half- 
dozen boys who already were seated there. On the 
platform of the station there was a bustling crowd, in 
which boys of their own age seemed to predominate. 
Some were accompanied by their fathers or mothers, 
and there was a busy scene as they moved about select- 
ing the various pieces of baggage, and making arrange- 
ments for its transportation to Weston. 

In a brief time order was brought out of the chaos, 
the stage was filled to its utmost capacity, the driver 
had mounted to his place which the boys on top of the 
stage had reserved for him, there was a snapping of the 
whip, and the last portion of Ward Hill’s journey had 
begun. 

He and his friend Henry Boyd had been traveling 
since early morning, and the sun was beginning to sink 
behind the hills when they started out of Dorrfield on 
the top of the old stage coach. There was to be a ride 
of three miles to W eston and then the new life, of which 
they had been dreaming for a few months past, would 
begin. Already the first phases of it could be seen, for 
the most of the occupants of the stage coach evidently 
were going to the same place, and the boys were shout- 
ing and laughing as they greeted one another at the close 


ENTERING WESTON 


11 


of the long summer vacation and came back to enter on 
the new year. 

In all the world there is no more stirring sight than 
that of a group of schoolboys when they come together 
as had these among whom Ward Hill now found him- 
self. Ward himself shared in the feeling, and although 
he felt somewhat out of place in the midst of the stran- 
gers, there yet was a thrill as he thought that he was 
really one of the company, and the life was soon to be 
his, even as it was now theirs. 

The few older people in the stage also felt the conta- 
gion of the young life, and with benignant faces watched 
the boys as they shouted and laughed, although doubt- 
less not one of the number could have explained the 
cause of the hilarity. The lumbering coach was rat- 
tling as it moved up the hillsides and down through the 
valleys, drawn by the four horses which the driver 
handled as if such work were a matter of every-day life. 

“ What was it the driver called you ? ” said Ward to 
the boy who had aided him at the station, and who now 
was seated by his side. 

“ Speckle,” replied the lad laughing. “ And you’d 
never guess why. ’ ’ He removed his hat for a moment 
and ran his fingers through his hair, which was of a 
decidedly reddish tinge. His face was covered with 
freckles, and he good-humoredly spoke of them as the 
source of the name by which he had been addressed. 
“My name’s Jack Hobart; but nobody in Weston 
would know who was meant if you spoke of him. If you 
say Speckle, or Speck, I guess most everybody’d under- 
stand it, though. What did you say your name was ? ” 


12 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ Ward Hill ; and this is my chum, Henry Boyd.” 
“ Chum ” was a new word in his vocabulary, but it 
sounded well, and might serve to impress his new friend 
with the fact that, although he was a new-comer, he was 
already familiar with some portions of school life. And 
Ward was already impressed by the bearing of his com- 
panion. He had noticed that his clothes were of a far 
more fashionable make than his own, and there was a 
self-possession and a ready assurance which to Ward, 
who had been living in a country village, seemed quite 
remarkable. 

“My mother doesn’t like my school name,” said 
Jack laughingly. “ She declares my hair is not red, 
only a bit golden ; and as for the speckles, she says she 
can’t find ’em. But I guess the fellows know. They 
have a way of getting up names that don’t always come 
out in the catalogue, and I guess as far as names go, 
they’re a little nearer the truth than some of those you 
see in print. Then you’re going to room in West, are 
you ? ’ ’ 

“ Yes. Why, isn’t that all right ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s all right enough ; only I didn’t just think 
you’d fit in there.” 

“ Where do you room ? ” inquired Ward. 

“Me? Oh, I room in East. Most of the fellows 
you’ll want to know room there.” 

Ward could not explain it, but there was a feeling 
of discontent already in his heart. He had never 
been in Weston, and the school life was all new to him. 
His father had made all the arrangements by corre- 
spondence for his coming, and had sent the lad off alone 


ENTEKING WESTON 


13 


with his long-time friend, Henry Boyd, declaring to his 
mother, who entered her mild protest, that it would “ do 
the youngsters good to be thrown upon their own re- 
sources.’ J 

The rooms in West Hall did not rent for so much as 
those in the East Hall, and as the matter of expense 
was a considerable one in the Hill household, the cheaper 
rooms at once had been selected. And Ward had en- 
tered no protest, knowing full well the struggle it would 
be to send him away to school. But already there was 
a little feeling of discontent arising even before he had 
seen the school. His well-dressed and confident com- 
panion had implied rather than spoken his feeling that 
West Hall sheltered the boys whom he would not care 
for as he would for those who roomed in East Hall. 

The thought made Ward silent for a time, and he 
gazed at the hills all about him. His home had been 
near the seashore, and mountains were something upon 
which he had never looked before. Here and there 
patches of lighter -colored foliage could be seen upon the 
green of the hillsides, which spoke of the coming of 
the autumn. The quiet and rugged beauty, the calm 
and even majestic appearance of some of the highest hills, 
or mountains as the people there termed them, impressed 
him ; and yet in the fading light of that September day 
there was a lonesomeness, or discontent, or something he 
could not just define, creeping over him. Perhaps the 
mountains were the cause of it, he thought ; they seemed 
to shut him out from the world. Certainly it was all far 
different from the wide stretch of the blue ocean which 
had greeted his eyes every morning in his home. 


14 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


The contrast carried him back in his thoughts to his 
home again. He could see the narrow, crooked, wind- 
ing little street that comprised most of the village of 
Rockford, in which he had been born and where all of 
his sixteen years of life had been spent. He could see 
the little house of his father, all painted white except for 
the green blinds, which were almost exactly like those of 
all the houses in the village. Just now the family 
must be at their evening meal. And he was gone. He 
swallowed a lump in his throat, and thought of the long 
talk he had had with his mother the night before he 
left, and how he had promised her that he w r ould do his 
best in every way for her sake as well as his own. 

Then there arose the picture of the little parsonage in 
which Dr. Boyd had lived for twenty years. His 
kind, benignant face must have been like Henry’s 
when he was young, thought Ward, as he glanced fora 
moment at his friend, who was listening to the words of 
Speckle. He was talking most of the time and evi- 
dently trying to impress the new boy. Just how Henry 
was taking it all Ward could not judge. But he 
thought again of his father, and how he and Henry for 
the last six months had been reciting in Latin and 
Greek daily to the kind old man who had told them 
with the greatest confidence, that now they could go 
up to Weston for a year, and then find they would be 
all ready for college. And Ward had not doubted his 
word. 

“ There’s the glen,” said Speckle, breaking in upon 
his thoughts and pointing to a place up the valley. 
“ We’ve had some high old times there. I’ll take you 


ENTERING WESTON 


15 


up some day. I guess you’re the kind of fellow to like 
what goes on there.” 

“ What is it goes on ? ” inquired Henry. 

“Never you mind that. You’ll find out in good 
time. That’s the ‘ hopper ’ up yonder. The best trout 
fishing in the country is right there. It’s against the 
law to fish part of the time, so we don’t,” and he winked 
slowly with one eye. “Up yonder’s where we go for 
chestnuts, and out beyond there’s the best orchard you 
ever saw. We take turns going out there nights. 
We’ll give you a chance soon. ” 

‘ ‘ What do you do ? ” 

“Oh we borrow a few. The deacon — it’s Deacon 
Spring lives there — rather prefers to come down to the 
academy and peddle his fruit out by the pint to the 
boys ; but we don’t take kindly to it. It’s a heap more 
fun to go up there nights. We can’t do such things in 
New York, you know.” 

“ Do you live in New York? ” asked Ward. 

“ That’s what I do. The governor sent me up here 
because he went to school here when he was a boy. I 
don’t kick. It’s good enough, and we manage to pull 
through somehow. Do you know where you’re going 
to board ? ” 

“Yes,” said Henry, “ at the Academy Hall.” 

“At the ‘hash-house’? You don’t mean it! 
They’ll feed you on veal there three times a day. 
They’d do it four times, only there aren’t enough calves 
to go ’round.” 

“We thought that was where all the boys took their 
meals,” said Ward. “ Where do you board ? ” 


16 


WARD HILTj AT WESTON 


“ At Ma Perrins’. She sets a table for you ! Say, 
do either of you fellows play ball ? ’ ’ 

“I do, some,” said Ward; “but Henry’s a crack 
player. ’ ’ 

“You don’t mean it ! We’re in great need of new 
stuff on the ‘nine.’ We’ve got to clean out the Burrs 
this fall, and we’ll give you a chance to show up pretty 
soon. Over in East we can’t pull out much, but 
Blake’s in charge of West, and you can fix him.” 

Ward was somewhat confused in his mind as to just 
what his companion meant. What and who were the 
Burrs ? ‘ ‘ Blake, ’ ’ he surmised, must be Mr. Blake, 

whom he knew from his father’s correspondence to be 
the teacher in charge of West Hall; but all his questions 
were banished from his mind in a moment as the stage 
came around the bend in the road and was at once in 
the little village, or hamlet, of Weston. 

And there was the academy. The four buildings 
were situated in the midst of a campus that comprised 
several acres. Over on the left was the ball field, and 
Speckle at once pointed out the various buildings. 
West Hall and East Hall and the large Science Hall, 
which Speckle declared some ‘ ‘ old boy ’ ’ had given 
the school a few years before, were clearly seen ; and 
Academy Hall, which years before had been the sole 
building, but now was the ‘ ‘ hash house, ’ ’ where ‘ ‘ they 
fed nothing but veal three times a day,” immediately 
came into view. 

The arrival of the stage was hailed by a crowd of 
eager boys, who called and laughed, and then broke 
into a shout that to Ward seemed a union of a war 


ENTERING WESTON 


17 


cry, a hymn, and a sob of pain. To his surprise the 
boys on the stage took up the shout and gave it back 
again in exactly the same form. 

“That’s the school yell,” said Jack as he leaped 
down from the stage. ‘ * Tom, take these fellows over to 
West.” 

In a moment Jack was the center of a group of eager 
boys ; the stage had started on again, and soon drew up 
before the door of West Hall. A man taller than any 
he had ever seen was standing in the doorway as they 
came up, and W ard whispered to Henry, 4 ‘ I wonder if 
that’s Mr. Blake. ” 

Henry made no reply and the boys quickly leaped 
down and approached the hall, which for many months 
was to be their home. 


B 


CHAPTER II 


NEW FRIENDS 

T HE tall man was Mr. Blake, as Ward had surmised. 

He greeted the boys pleasantly, and as soon as he 
heard their names, directed them to their room and 
gave them each a key. 

Their room was to be on the third floor and was in 
the front corner. The dim light however prevented 
them from seeing the number ‘ ‘ Seventeen ’ ’ which Mr. 
Blake told them they would find painted on the door. 
There was a man in the hallway lighting the lamps on 
the side walls, and as they came up the stairs, Ward 
turned to him and said, “ Can you tell us where seven- 
teen is? ” 

“ Sivinteen is it? Indade and I can. It’s right 
before yez.” 

As the boys were still standing by the stairway the 
direction was not quite so clear as Ward wished, and 
he said : “ Where did you say it was ? ” 

“ Right there in the corner by ye. Ye’re new byes 
I take it. Well, I’ll look after ye, young gintlemen. 
Me name’s Michael. I’m the perfessor of dust and 
ashes. I’m nixt to the principal, I am. Indade, and 
I’ve been here longer nor the doctor.” 

The boys laughed, and as they had found the num- 
ber on the door now, they quickly entered and stood 
18 


NEW FRIENDS 


19 


inside the room which had been assigned them. 
“That’s the janitor, I take it,” said Henry as they 
closed the door. 

‘ ‘ I presume so, ’ ’ replied W ard laughing. ‘ ‘ The pro- 
fessor of dust and ashes. That sounds like it anyway.” 

But they turned now to examine their new abode. 
There was a little study room, and out of it were two 
closets. Ward opened the door of each and saw that 
one was designed for a wardrobe and the other as a 
coat closet. In addition there were two small sleeping 
rooms, one for each boy. A narrow little bedstead and 
a washstand were in each, and only the necessary furni- 
ture was in any of the rooms ; a small stove, three 
chairs, a rough study table, and a large lamp which 
they had lighted as soon as they entered, made up the 
furnishings of the study room. 

“It’s pretty bare,” said Ward; “not much like 
home.” 

“We’ll soon have it fixed,” replied Henry, “as 
soon as our trunks come. Here they are now,” he 
added, as he opened the door in response to a rap, and 
saw the stalwart Michael before him with a trunk on 
his shoulder. 

He lowered his burden, depositing it on the floor, 
and said : “ It’s a big load ye have there, young gintle- 
men. I think it’s the doctor I’ll be after asking to 
bring up the other one.” 

“ You’re next to him, are you? ” said Ward laugh- 
ing, as he saw the twinkle in his eyes. 

“ Yes, I’m next to the principal. I’m the perfessor 
of dust and ashes.” 


20 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


The other trunk was soon brought up and the boys 
at once opened them, and taking out some fresh cloth- 
ing, were soon ready to present themselves to Mr. 
Blake and report for supper. 

“You go right over to Academy Hall,” said Mr. 
Blake, “ and you’ll find supper ready for you.” 

The boys started across the well-worn path which 
led to the boarding hall, not quite certain as to what 
they were to do when they arrived ; but on their way 
they met Jack Hobart with several other boys, and as 
soon as he recognized them he called out, ‘ £ On your 
way to the hash -house ? Beware the veal ! ” 

His companions laughed, and Ward, somewhat 
abashed, replied: “Yes, we’re going there, but we 
don’t know what to do when we get there.” 

“I told you,” and Jack laughed. “Beware the 
veal, but don’t be afraid. Mrs. Sperry is the matron, 
and she’ll give you a place at one of the tables. You 
want to walk right in and make yourselves at home. 
She’ll do all the rest.” 

Jack hastened to rejoin his companions who had gone 
on before him, and Ward and Henry turned again to 
follow the path. The sun had long since disappeared 
from sight, but the evening was light under the full 
moon and they had no difficulty in finding their way. 

The path led them by East Hall, and as they drew 
near they saw a group of a half-dozen boys standing by 
the steps which led to one of the entrances, under the 
large lamp which hung over the doorway and shed its 
beams on all around. 

In the center of the group was a boy larger than any 


NEW FRIENDS 


21 


of the others, and he was telling some story which ap- 
parently was delighting his fellows. His face was bold 
and coarse, and as he turned to look at the approach- 
ing boys, he gazed at them curiously for a moment, and 
as soon as they passed he called out : ‘ ‘ Seeds ! Seeds ! 
H-a-a-y -seeds ! ” 

A laugh followed his call, and his companions at 
once joined in the cry, “ Seeds ! Seeds ! H-a-a-y- 
seeds ! ’ ’ 

Ward felt that his face flushed, but neither he nor 
Henry made any reply. It had been apparent to them 
both when they had passed the group that they must 
belong to the wealthier class of boys in the school ; but 
they had not been prepared for the rude and brutal 
salutation which they had received. 

Henry apparently had not been moved by the call, 
but the feeling of discontent which W ard had felt in the 
company of Speckle, as they rode over to Weston on 
the old stage-coach, returned. It was a new experience 
to him, and not at all a pleasant one, but he forgot it 
for the moment as they approached the dining hall and 
entered the open door. 

The matron, Mrs. Sperry, was in waiting there, and 
after cordially greeting the new boys, at once led the 
way to the dining room. Ward saw as he entered that 
the room seemed to be about half filled with students, 
and he also noticed several men there whom he at once 
concluded must be teachers. 

‘ 4 This will be your table, young gentlemen,” said 
Mrs. Sperry, as she assigned them seats and introduced 
them to the boys who already were seated there. 


22 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Ward found himself at one end of the table while 
Henry was seated at his right. On his left was a boy 
somewhat older than he, but whose pleasant face and 
cordial manner made him forget his irritation at the call 
of the East Hall boys, and he soon found himself listen- 
ing to the words of his new friend. He appeared to 
be an earnest and quiet boy, and at once began to ex- 
plain the life and character of the school. 

44 It’s my last year,” said Edward Butler, or 44 Ned,” 
as he explained he was commonly known. 44 I’ve been 
here two years and they’ve been the happiest years 
of my life. Of course a fellow in a school of a hundred 
and fifty boys meets all kinds, but it isn’t long before 
he finds his own set. I’ve found one thing in my life 
here though, and as you are a new fellow, and I guess 
I’m a little older, I’ll tell it to you.” 

44 What is it ? ” 

“Why, that half the fight’s won when the fellows 
find out what sort of a chap you are. And it all comes 
from two little words too.” 

4 4 What are they ? ’ ’ 

“ 4 Yes’ and 4 no.’ If a new boy can say either or 
both of those words as if he meant them right at the 
start, he saves himself a heap of trouble. The fast 
fellows leave him alone if they find they can’t work him. 
I’ve seen more fellows go down just because they 
couldn’t use those words than from any other one cause. 
But I don’t think you’ll have much trouble. You look 
as if you knew what those words meant.” 

Ward was silent for a moment. The words of his 
new friend had touched a sore spot in his soul. Already 


NEW FRIENDS 


23 


he had found himself dissatisfied with his place in the 
school even before the life had fairly begun. His 
rooms, his outfit, and his lack of something he could 
not just define, but which had been very apparent in 
Speckle, had made him feel that he was not being 
justly treated ; but the calm, earnest words of Ned 
Butler had come with a helpful impulse and the better 
part of his nature asserted itself again. He could see 
too that Henry, who had taken but a little part in the 
conversation, was strongly drawn to their companion. 

“ Yes, they make you work here,” said Ned in reply 
to a question of Ward’s. “I thought I knew some- 
thing when I first came up here, but I was very soon 
set right. You room in West Hall, do you ? Well, 
it’ll be a little harder for you there than in some other 
places. Mr. Blake is too easy with the boys.” 

“What, that great tall fellow? He looks as if he 
could swallow a fellow and not half try.” 

“That doesn’t make any difference,” replied Ned 
laughing. “I had to move out, and now I room in 
East Hall. Come over and see me sometime.” 

The conversation soon turned upon the various aspects 
of the school life, and the prospects of the nine were 
largely dwelt upon. 

“Yes, I play first base,” said Ned, “and I hope 
you’ll show up in form too. We need new material. 
The Burrs have whipped us for two years now.” 

“The Burrs? Who are they?” inquired Ward, 
recalling the fact that Jack Hobart also had used the 
word. 

“ Oh, that’s the name of the school over at Green- 


24 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


ville, the Burr Seminary. It’s a good school, and they 
have a great nine, though some of our fellows call them 
muckers. I don’t believe in that myself, for when 
they’ve beaten us for two years as they have, I’d rather 
say they were somebody. It doesn’t make it quite so 
bad for us, you see. We’ve a great player in our cap- 
tain, Tim Pickard. He’s a big feiiow, and the hardest 
hitter we’ve ever had. At least that’s what they say.” 

‘ 1 Where does he room ? ’ ’ 

“ Over in East Hall. He’s a good deal of a bully, 
and not much of a fellow in some ways. At least that’s 
what I think,” said Ned, lowering his voice. “ He’s 
tough. He’s got lots of money and there’s always a 
crowd hanging around him. He’s a good player, 
though.” 

Ward wondered whether the boy who had called 
after him a little while before was not the very one to 
whom Ned was referring, but the signal to rise was then 
given and the boys filed out of the room, laughing and 
chatting as they departed to their rooms. 

Ward and Henry soon climbed the stairs in West 
Hall to “seventeen ” again, and began to arrange the 
various articles they took from their trunks in the 
room. They had brought a cheap ingrain carpet from 
home, and it was some time before this was laid satis- 
factorily. Then they arranged the books and few 
pictures they had brought, and Ward tacked a calendar 
on the wall over the head of his bed. Henry was not 
looking at him and W ard quickly and carefully counted 
the days which must elapse before the Christmas vaca- 
tion. Ninety -eight days ! He drew a long breath, for 


NEW FRIENDS 


25 


it seemed to him like a long time before he would see 
home again. 

And the feeling of discontent was not all gone from 
his heart either. How bare the rooms looked after all 
they had done ! What would Speckle think, if he 
should come over there? and that Tim Pickard, 
the captain of the nine, who had so much money? 
“ H-a-a-y-seed ! ” Doubtless he was the fellow who 
had called after them, and Ward felt his cheeks grow- 
ing warm again as he thought of the insult. 

“There, I think we’re pretty well fixed up,” said 
Henry, as Ward came out of his bedroom. As Ward 
made no reply, Henry continued, “I think we’d better 
go over to the doctor’s now. It’s after eight o’clock, 
and you know I have a letter for him from father.” 

“All right,” replied Ward, and the boys, leaving 
word with Mr. Blake, were soon before the house of 
Dr. Gray, the famous head of Weston Academy. 

In a few moments the boys were admitted into his 
study and were standing before the principal, who rose 
to receive them as they entered. He was a small man 
with a long gray beard, and keen little eyes that peered 
out in a kindly manner through his gold-rimmed spec- 
tacles. But there was an air of decision about him, 
and his face showed that he could be stern if the oc- 
casion demanded it. 

“Then you are Ward Hill and Henry Boyd ! It 
doesn’t seem possible. Why, I was in school and col- 
lege with your fathers, and here are his boys coming up 
to me now. Well, I am heartily glad to see you, boys. 
Be seated. ’ ’ 


26 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


The boys were slightly embarrassed in the presence 
of this man of whom they had heard so much in their 
homes, and whose name had always been spoken almost 
with reverence, but Henry managed to draw from his 
pocket his father’s letter and said: “Doctor, father 
sent this letter which he wanted me to give to you.” 

The doctor took the letter, and as he opened it and 
saw that the kind-hearted but innocent old clergyman 
had written some ten or twelve pages, in which he set 
forth all the promising traits of character of each of 
the boys, he smiled, and laying the missive upon the 
desk before him, swung around in his chair once more 
and said : “ I’ll attend to that a little later. Just now 
I have too many new boys waiting to see me. I’m glad 
to welcome you here, and shall do all in my power for 
you, both on your own account and on that of your 
fathers. You had best report to Mr. Blake now,” 
Ward thought his face clouded a little as he men- 
tioned the teacher’s name, “and he will explain the 
details of the school life to you. To-morrow morning, 
at quarter before nine, we shall have prayers in the 
ehapel. That’s in Science Hall, you know ; and then 
you’ll be told the rest. Good -night, boys.” 

“Good -night, doctor,” replied the boys as they left 
his presence to return to their room in West Hall. 


CHAPTER III 


A VISITOR 

T HAT night the boys slept as only tired boys can. 

The long journey, the excitement following the 
entrance into new scenes, and the labor of arranging 
their few possessions in their new quarters, all had 
combined to make them thoroughly weary and it was 
late when they awoke on the following morning. 

The boys were nearly all gone from the dining room 
when they entered, and there was a mild reproof from 
the matron for their tardiness. They ate their break- 
fast hastily, and the bell which summoned the students 
to prayers was already ringing when they started back 
to their room. 

Quickly taking their books they ran down the stairs 
and out along the path which led to Science Hall. 
The bell was giving short sharp sounds now, as if it 
was impatient at the delay. 

“ We’re not the only ones late,” said Ward as he saw 
that boys were coming from almost every direction. 
“ Just look over by East Hall, will you? ” he said, as 
they drew near to the chapel. 

A group of five boys was rushing toward them, some 
putting on their coats as they ran, and Speckle, who 
was in advance, making a desperate effort to fasten his 
collar. 


27 


28 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ String out there, you fellows ! ” called the leader. 
“ String out, will you ? String o-u-t ! ” 

“ What does he mean?” said Ward, turning for a 
moment and looking at Henry. 

“ It’s more than I can tell. We won’t wait to find 
out though,” and both entered the open door by which 
Mr. Blake was standing. 

‘ ‘ You’re late, boys, ” he said as they entered. ‘ ‘ Take 
your seats over here this morning.” 

Ward and Henry followed his directions and as they 
took their seats in the old-fashioned pew, glanced curi- 
ously about them. Speckle and his friends, among 
whom Ward recognized the big fellow who had hailed 
them as ‘ ‘ hay -seeds ’ ’ on the preceding evening, had 
plainly been having some words with Mr. Blake ; but 
at last had pushed by him just as Dr. Gray arose on 
the platform. The room was almost filled with boys. 
Their bright, eager faces, the animation of the scene, 
the nods of recognition that were to be seen as the boys 
came together for the first morning of the new school 
year, were all inspiring, and Ward soon felt that all 
his discontent was a thing of yesterday. 

On the platform, arranged in a semicircle about the 
principal, were the other teachers of the school, seven 
in number. Two or three of these were quite young, 
and their faces, almost boyish, reflected in a measure 
the picture before them. Some of them, however, were 
men well advanced in years, but sympathy with the 
young life about them was plainly manifest in the 
kindly looks they gave to all. An organ and a choir 
of ten students were on the right of the platform. 


A VISITOR 


29 


A hush came over the room as the doctor rose and 
gave out the number of a hymn. The singing which 
followed was inspiring and Ward felt that there was 
much to be enjoyed in the life upon which he was enter- 
ing. A Scripture selection was then read ; the doctor 
offered a brief prayer, and then began to speak to the 
assembly. 

A few cordial words of greeting were given, a state- 
ment was made of the rules of the school, one of which 
required that the boys should not leave their rooms 
during study hours. These hours were to be announced 
by the ringing of the chapel bell. An introduction of 
the new teachers followed, and then the principal turned 
to say a few words to the “ new boys.” 

The curious glances which were cast toward the side 
of the room where he was, led Ward to believe that all 
the new-comers were seated together, and he too looked 
carefully at his companions ; but in a moment his 
thoughts were withdrawn to the doctor and he was 
listening attentively to what he was saying : 

‘ ‘ This new life into which you are now entering, 
young gentlemen, is in the main to be one, the character 
of which each of you will have to determine for him- 
self. We shall not impose many rules upon you, but 
we shall expect you to conform to the very best life of 
the school. This is a place for the making of men, and 
to be a man is the highest attainment of life. The laws 
of politeness are really the outgrowth of a desire to be 
kind. You are to think not only of yourselves but of 
others also. It is safer to follow such rules than it is 
Y) be governed by your own desires alone. 


30 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“We shall hope that you are all done with ‘ cutting 
up. ’ That belongs to the period of childhood, and we 
trust you will leave all childish things behind you. 
We want you to stand high in your classes, but higher 
yet in character. It is a great thing to be high-toned, 
to have a sense of what is manly and true. There is 
sometimes a tendency, when boys and young men are 
thrown together, to forget the best things and think and 
talk of those which are unworthy and low. What I 
want of you is just this : when you make a purchase at 
any of the village stores you are sure to be careful to 
get your full money’s worth. I want you to do the 
same thing in your school life. Some of you come 
from homes of wealth and the question of expense is 
not a pressing one ; but more of you are permitted to 
study in this school only by sacrifice on the part of 
your parents. I want each of you to be sure that he is 
getting the very best out of this investment which your 
parents are making.” 

The earnest words of the principal were appealing 
strongly to Ward. He was thinking of what it meant 
in his own home, the sacrifices and love which made it 
possible for him to be enrolled among the Weston boys. 
“ I’ll do my level best,” he thought, “ and neither my 
father nor the doctor shall be disappointed in me.” 

Just then he glanced across the room, and his atten- 
tion was drawn to Speckle and Tim Pickard. The 
latter was nodding and pretending to be asleep, while 
Speckle was sitting with open mouth and apparently 
staring hard at Dr. Gray as he spoke. The boys near 
them were in a high state of glee at the actions of the 


A VISITOR 


31 


two, and in a moment the good resolution of Ward was 
dampened and his former feeling of discontent returned. 

Was the doctor talking of something for which none 
of the boys cared ? The earnest and respectful atten- 
tion he received from the most of those before him dis- 
proved that ; but somehow the good impulse in his own 
heart was weakened and the remainder of the doctor’s 
address was not closely heeded. He heard the direc- 
tions given for the new boys to remain until they were 
assigned to classes, and then the rest of the school filed 
out and passed to the various class-rooms. 

Ward Hill never knew just how the next three or 
four hours passed. He was called upon for work much 
of which he could not do, and at last there came the 
verdict that both he and Henry were to be assigned to 
the class below the one they had hoped to enter, and 
into which Henry’s father so confidently had asserted 
that they would be able to go. 

‘ ‘ Then you have been studying with the village 
clergyman, have you?” Ward heard the teacher, Mr. 
Parker, say. * ‘ I have no doubt he is a most worthy 
man, but the modern demands upon the schools simply 
make it impossible for a boy to be taught in the methods 
in vogue a quarter of a century ago, and then think that 
he can go right on in his school work. Every year we 
have the same experience, and yours is no new case. 
Perhaps by steady work you may be able to catch up 
with the other class, but for the present you must recite 
with the boys of the third year.” He then assigned 
their lessons, and dismissing them from the room, turned 
to give his attention to others. 


32 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Ward was bitterly disappointed. His pride was hurt, 
and for the first time in his life he felt angry at the 
saintly Dr. Boyd, who up to this time had always been 
regarded by him as not only one of the best of men, but 
also as one whose teaching ability was not to be ques- 
tioned. There were angry feelings in his heart and 
angry words were on his lips, but as he glanced at 
Henry on their way back to their room, he saw that 
his eyes were filled with tears. In a moment his anger 
was gone and he was trying to comfort his friend. 

“Never mind, Henry,” he said; “it’ll all come 
out right.” 

“It’s right now,” responded Henry emphatically. 
“I know we’re ready for the fourth year, but Mr. 
Parker couldn’t find it out in a minute. Ward, I want 
you to promise me one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“ That you’ll pitch into the work and do your level 
best. I don’t care so much for myself, but I do want 
to prove that my father’s right. He can’t afford to 
send me here two years before I go away to college, and 
I don’t want him to either. I know we can do that 
work. ’ ’ 

“So do I,” replied Ward, “and will soon show it 
too.” 

“You can,” said Henry. “You can learn a lesson 
in about half the time it takes me, if you’ll half try, 
and I want to prove to the whole school that my father’s 
right. ’ ’ 

“We’ll do it,” said Ward cheerfully. 

The good resolution of the morning was coming back 


A VISITOR 


33 


now and lie fully intended to carry out his promise to 
Henry. His friend plainly was in such distress that 
his own sympathy was deeply stirred. But more than 
a good feeling was required to succeed at Weston, and 
Ward was yet to learn that lesson, with a few others. 

“ Hello, Ward ! What class you in?” It was 
Speckle who spoke, and with him was Tim Pickard, 
the captain of the nine, the boy who had saluted him 
as 4 * Hay -seed ’ ’ on the preceding evening. 

“We’re in the third,” replied Ward. “That is, 
we’re there for the present.” 

“ Third? That’s fine ! That’s the best class in the 
school. I’m in that, and was last year too, but I liked 
it so well I’m taking it again this year. So’s Tim.” 
And Spreckle laughed, as if he enjoyed the joke im- 
mensely. “Let me see,” he continued; “you’ll sit 
right next to me. We’re seated in alphabetical order. 
Hill, Hobart ; they’ll come right together. Here, 
Tim, I want to introduce you to these fellows. This is 
Ward Hill and Henry Boyd ; they’re going to try to 
make the nine.” 

“ Is that so? Glad to meet you,” replied his com- 
panion, interested at once, and shaking each by the 
hand. 4 4 Come down on the campus to-morrow, will 
you ? ’ ’ 

44 Yes,” replied Ward, flattered in spite of himself 
by the notice of this fellow, whom a moment before he 
had regarded with anger. 44 What time ? ” 

44 Oh, about four ; after study hour.” 

44 Say, Ward, the doctor gave us a good one this 
morning, didn’t he?” said Speckle. 

c 


34 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ Yes ; I liked it.” 

“ So did I. I always liked that speech. I’ve been 
here three years and he always gets it off at the opening 
of every term. I was so astonished this morning to 
hear him reverse the order of one or two things that I 
couldn’t shut my mouth.” 

“ That’s something you never yet have learned to do 
anywhere, Speck,” said Tim. “Now, fellows, be sure 
and show up on the field to-morrow at four -thirty 
sharp.” And he turned and walked on. 

He was not such a bad fellow after all, thought 
Ward. His air of easy confidence, the strength he 
plainly possessed, and above all his invitation to come 
down to the campus, were fast making him forget the 
brutal greeting of the preceding evening. Henry, 
however, had been silent throughout the conversation. 
Doubtless he was thinking of his father. 

All that afternoon Ward and Henry worked faith- 
fully over their books. The first novelty of the life was 
gone and they were beginning to feel at home in Weston. 
New acquaintances were being made, new friendships 
formed, but the ordeal of the class-room on the morrow 
was in their minds and they were preparing to meet it. 
They would vindicate the verdict of Henry’s father by 
their good work. 

The evening study hour was not half over when there 
came a low rap on Ward’s door. He had been work- 
ing hard, but he quickly arose from his chair and 
opened the door. 

“ Sh ! ” said Speckle, in a low whisper, as he entered 
and carefully closed the door behind him. 


A VISITOR 


35 


“What’s the trouble?” inquired Ward, who was 
surprised at a visit during the study hour. 

“I don’t want any one to hear me. Blake’s out, 
but I’ll have to be on my guard. You’ll see some fun 
pretty quick.” 

1 1 What fun ? I thought all the boys had to stay in 
their rooms till ten.” 

“Ah, the veal’s already working, I see. I told you 
the hash house would be the death of you, and it will 
be yet. But the fun’s just this, the * Tangs ’ are out ! ” 


CHAPTER IV 


A CRASH IN WEST HALL 

“ rTlHE ‘Tangs’? I don’t understand what you 
JL mean, ’ ’ said W ard. 

“ I forgot you were a new one,” and Speckle laughed. 
“You’ll hear about them enough before long. The 
‘Tangs’ are a secret society. It’s been going for a 
dozen years I guess. I never got in till last year, and 
we, or rather they, had a high old time when I was 
initiated. Perhaps you’ll have a show to get in after 
a bit.” 

“ But what do you do ? What are they for ? ” per- 
sisted W ard . “I don ’ t understand . ’ ’ 

“ I can ’ t give away the secrets, ” said Speckle. “I’ve 
told too much already. But the society’s organized for 
the good of the school. Only the right kind of fellows 
are taken in, and when you are once inside your for- 
tune’s made. That’s all I can tell you. Only some- 
how every scrape that happens is almost always charged 
to the ‘Tangs.’ Why last spring the doctor’s horse 
wandered out of Weston, and would you believe me, 
everybody said right away that the ‘ Tangs ’ of course 
were to blame. ’ ’ Speckle laughed as if he could have 
told more, and Ward, whose curiosity now was thor- 
oughly aroused, immediately asked the question which 
Speckle had expected. 

36 


A CRASH IN WEST HALL 


37 


“ How did the doctor’s horse get away? ” 

“ Oh, he was feeding out in the pasture and somehow, 
somebody, sometime, someday — of course I can’t say 
for certain how it happened — tied a bunch of fresh oats 
on a stick and then tied the stick on the poor old beast’s 
head in such a way that the oats hung right over the 
horse’s nose, only about two inches away. Poor old 
Dobbin liked the smell of the green oats, and he tried 
to get at them. There they were right close to him, and 
yet every time he opened his mouth they were just as 
far off as ever, and he couldn’t get his teeth on them. 
Nobody ever knew how the gate of the pasture happened 
to be open, but open it was, and Dobbin followed the 
oats out through the gate and started down the road. 
When he went past the window of the doctor’s study 
the doctor started after him without waiting to put on 
a hat or change that awful study gown of his. You’ve 
seen that, haven’t you? Well, it’s a show! It’s a 
long gown that comes most to his feet ; and such a 
gown too ! I’d just about as soon wear a nightshirt.” 
And Speckle laughed heartily at the recollection. 

“ What became of the horse ? ” inquired Ward. 

“ Oh, old Dobbin’s as gentle as a lamb, you know. 
He’s one of those ‘ safe ’ horses. He doesn’t ever get 
much of a gait on him, just hops up and down like a 
see-saw, when he travels, and doesn’t seem to go ahead 
at all. It’s a sight to make the saints weep to see 
the old fellow in his chaise driving Dobbin. But 
this time Dobbin didn’t propose to be caught. He 
was after that bunch of oats, and he’d made up his 
mind he’d have it if he had to go clear to Dorrfield 


38 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


to get it. He saw the doctor and actually kicked up 
his heels. Yes sir, his heels were seen off the ground, 
though no one who didn’t see it for himself would ever 
believe it. On went the doctor, and on went old Dob- 
bin, and the last seen of them on that trip was as they 
disappeared over the hill beyond East Hall. All of the 
fellows who were in it had their heads out of the win- 
dows and they were yelling their encouragement. ’Twas 
a great race ! ‘ Go it, Dobbin ! ’ ‘ Go it, doctor ! ’ 

They were the calls for two weeks which the fellows 
used.” 

“ Did he catch the horse? ” inquired Ward. 

“I guess so,” said Speckle with a laugh. “The 
doctor doesn’t give up when he starts on a thing, and 
at any rate they came back, though no one ever knew 
just when or how.” 

“ And you call such tricks as that fun, do you?” 
said Henry, who had taken no part in the conversation, 
and had vainly been trying to study. ‘ ‘ Do you want 
to know what I think of it ? I think it was a mean, 
contemptible act, and no one but a sneak would be 
guilty of such a thing.” 

Both boys looked at Henry in astonishment. He 
had been such a quiet fellow that not even Ward was 
prepared for the outbreak, and Jack, at first silent 
from surprise, looked at him with an ill-concealed sneer 
upon his face. Before either of them replied, however, 
Henry rose from his chair, and bringing his fist down 
upon the table said : “ Yes sir ! That’ s just what it is, a 
mean, scoundrelly trick ! When a man works here as 
Dr. Gray does, and just for the good of the fellows 


A CRASH IN WEST HALL 


39 


who come up here, for a few sneaking chaps to go and 
do all they can to break him up — I don’t want to know 
any more about them ! Some of these fellows here are 
working their way through school, and some of them 
are here only because their fathers and mothers are 
slaying and doing without things they need themselves 
just to give the boys a chance to get a fair start in life ; 
and then for a few low-lived fellows, such as I know 
these * Tangs ’ must be, to go in and do all they can to 
break up the school and bother the teachers ! Why 
there’s only one word in the whole English language 
that’ll fit them.” 

“ And what’s that ? ” said Jack sneeringly. 

“ They’re thieves. That’s what they are. They’re 
just stealing time and work from the teachers that belong 
to the school. I came up here to work, and I’ve got to 
work for it if I get through, and I don’t intend, if I 
can help it, to let any fellow steal from me either.” 
And Henry seated himself again by the table and re- 
opened his books. 

There were mingled feelings in Ward’s heart. He 
had been impressed by the notice and evident favor 
Speckle had given him. In his own little home vil- 
lage, Ward had always been a leader, and had never 
thought of himself in any other light. It had often 
been in his mind, as he thought of the coming days at 
Weston, that he would be a leader there also, and many 
were the projects he had dreamed of in which he would 
be engaged. But for the first time in his life, with his 
coming to Weston, he had realized that his position 
was likely to be disputed. 


40 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Somehow, although he could not explain it even to 
himself, he had been greatly impressed by the easy self- 
assurance of Jack Hobart and the boys of East Hall. 
They were better dressed than he, and it was plainly to 
be seen that they were looked up to by many in the 
school, and some of the teachers themselves in a certain 
way seemed to hold them in a little different light from 
that in which other boys were regarded. It was 
Ward’s first experience with the light conscience, the 
easy bearing, the freedom from responsibility, the con- 
descension which the possession of money and the train- 
ing (or lack of training) in certain homes, brings to 
boys and men of a certain class. 

He was too young and too new in the school life to 
appreciate fully all these things at the time, and yet 
already he was beginning to feel flattered by the at- 
tention of Jack Hobart and his friends ; and even the 
insult of Tim Pickard had been lost sight of in the 
easy familiarity he had displayed at their second meet- 
ing. 

And yet Ward Hill was not a weak boy. He had 
always despised a lie, was as tender-hearted as he was 
truthful, and all his impulses had been of the generous 
and better sort. But he was now facing an entirely 
new and different class of influences from those with 
which he had always been surrounded, and in which he 
had been trained ; and only experience would show how 
he would meet them. His first feeling now was that of 
anger. Why should Henry want to mortify him in the 
very beginning of their school course by such words ? 
Doubtless what he said was in a measure true, but he 


A CRASH IN WEST HALL 


41 


was altogether too strong in his words over such a 
harmless prank as Speckle had just described. 

Jack Hobart was the first to break the awkward 
silence which had followed Henry’s outbreak, and 
quickly rising from his chair, he said : ‘ ‘ Pardon me. I 
fear I too am stealing some of your valuable time. 
* Crane ’ (Mr. Crane was the teacher in charge of East 
Hall) told me I could run over here for a bit and see 
Ward and explain a little about the lesson to him. 
Blake’s out, so I didn’t stop to inquire whether it would 
be agreeable to you or not. I’m sure I don’t w r ant to 
stay where my company’s not wanted.” 

“ Don’t go, Speckle, ” said Ward. “ Henry doesn’t 
mean it. Sit down again.” 

“No, I must go,” insisted Jack moving toward the 
door. “I’ll report the case of your chum to the ‘ Tangs. ’ 
He’ll need a little attention from them I think,” he 
said, in so low a voice that only Ward could hear him. 

“Why, the lamps are out in all the halls!” said 
Ward in surprise, as he and Jack stepped outside the 
door. “I wonder how that happened. I guess Pro- 
fessor Mike has forgotten to light them. I’ll just start 
them up myself.” 

“No, you won’t,” said Speckle. “You’ll soon 
know why they’re out.” 

Just as he spoke there came a crash that sounded 
through the building as if the very walls w T ere falling. 
A fall followed the crash, and Ward thought he heard 
something that sounded very like a groan. Then for a 
moment there was silence and the darkness was ap- 
parently deeper than before. 


42 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ Wiiat’s that ? What is it ? ” said Ward quickly ; 
but Jack had already disappeared, and he could hear 
him as he rushed down the stairway three steps at a 
time. 

Quickly the doors in each hall were thrown open, and 
the boys, among whom was Ward, rushed down the 
stairs to the first hall, from which the sound had seemed 
to come. When he arrived, some one had lighted the 
great hall lamp, and the crowd of eager boys could be 
seen huddled together. And there on the floor lay the 
long form of Mr. Blake. 

‘ ‘ Help him up, fellows ! ” It was Tim Pickard 
who spoke, and Ward wondered how he happened to 
be there. “ I was just coming from the doctor’s,” said 
Tim as he took the teacher by the hand, “ and hearing 
the racket I came in to see what it meant. Are you 
hurt, Mr. Blake ? ’ ’ 

“No, I think not much,” replied the teacher in a 
dazed way as he regained his upright position and 
rubbed his hand over his face on which a great bruise 
could be seen, and from which a small stream of blood 
was trickling. “ I had been out for a few minutes and 
when I came back I fell over this,” and he pointed to 
the floor. 

Ward followed his look and saw the cause of all the 
trouble. Some one had stretched a wire across the hall 
at a distance of a foot from the floor. In front of it, 
and at about the height of a man’s shoulder from the 
floor, a door, which had been taken from its place, was 
so arranged in the air that when any one entered the 
hall in the darkness and tripped over the wire, as he 


A CRASH IN WEST HALL 


43 


fell forward, his hands and head would strike against 
the door and it would fall upon him as he fell. 

“ It’s too bad, Mr. Blake,” said Jack. “ Can’t we 
do something to help you ? ” 

“ No, nothing,” replied the teacher. “ I want you 
all to go to your rooms now.” 

Ward had been impressed by the different words of 
the boys. Some had been silent and showed their sym- 
pathy by their actions. Tim Pickard and Speckle had 
been the most profuse of all in their expressions of desire 
to aid ; but somehow in Ward’s heart there was a feel- 
ing that they both knew more of the occurrence than 
they cared to show. He recalled Speckle’s words about 
the “ Tangs ” being out, and was more and more con- 
vinced that they knew who had been guilty. A quick 
glance from Speckle as he turned to leave confirmed the 
impression, but the boys were soon gone and the West 
Hall boys were back in their rooms. 

“ Some more of the ‘ Tangs’ ’ work, I suppose,” said 
Henry, as he and W ard seated themselves at their study 
table again. “A fine trick that, and a brainy one too. 
Mr. Blake is likely to carry the marks of it as long as 
he lives.” 

Ward made no reply, but pretended to be busy in 
his work ; his thoughts, however, were not of the Cicero 
before him. At times he felt his blood boil when the 
picture of the fallen teacher rose before him. And yet 
what a ridiculous sight he presented ! His long body 
never had appeared so ungainly as when he lay upon 
the floor. And some of the boys had laughed too when 
they had found that he was not seriously injured. 


44 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“Why didn’t he take hold of those fellows?” said 
Ward aloud. “ He could shake every one of them as 
a dog does a rat, the great giant that he is. ’ ’ 

“ Perhaps he didn’t know who the guilty ones were,” 
replied Henry, looking up for a moment from his book. 

“I’m going down to see how he is,” said Ward. 
“ He may need some help.” 

He went down the stairs and stopped before the door 
of Mr. Blake’s room. He was about to rap when he 
was startled by the sounds which came from within the 
room. Some one was sobbing, and Ward, after listen- 
ing for a moment, turned and walked slowly back up 
the stairs. 


CHAPTER V 


IN THE LATIN ROOM 

W ARD said nothing of the sounds he had heard 
from Mr. Blake’s room when he returned to his 
own room. Henry was working busily and did not 
even glance up when his chum entered, and Ward soon 
seated himself again and tried to resume his studying. 
But somehow he could not bring his thoughts to bear 
upon the work before him. 

The plight of Mr. Blake, his patient manner, and 
above all the sound of the sobs, kept coming back to 
him. The teacher had been altogether too patient, he 
thought. If he had shown some signs of anger, or of 
indignation at least, it would have been better. Doubt- 
less the following day would see some further develop- 
ments and the scrape would be investigated, and the 
leaders in it then receive some well -merited punishment. 
What would it be? Without doubt some of the boys 
would be suspended or expelled, and Ward’s cheeks 
flushed as he thought of the disgrace. What would his 
father and mother think if he should be the one to be 
sent home ? He was glad that he had had nothing to 
do with the disgraceful affair. And he resolutely tried 
to think of the lesson before him. 

It was a familiar passage he was trying to translate 
and he had read it with Henry and Dr. Boyd nearly 

45 


46 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


a year before. Henry was working over it as if the 
words were all new to him ; but when the study hour 
was over, Ward had done but little work, and he was 
trusting to his memory of the work he had previously 
done. 

On his way to the chapel next morning, he again fell 
in with Jack Hobart and Tim Pickard, who hailed him 
and laughingly referred to the experience of the pre- 
ceding evening. 

‘ ‘I’m half afraid we’ll catch it this morning,” said 
Jack. “I’m going to be very devout and listen to 
every word the doctor has to say. I’ve got to do 
something to save my reputation. It was a mighty 
unlucky thing that Tim and I both happened to be 
over in West Hall when the thing occurred.” 

“ Oh, you’ll have no trouble, Speck,” said Tim with 
a laugh. “ Everybody knows you’re all straight. I 
think you’re a special pet of the doctor’s.” 

“ I don’t think he looks upon me as a black sheep,” 
replied Jack, sober for the moment. 

“No, not all black, only just speckled.” And Tim 
laughed. 

“Well, I shall be glad when chapel’s over this 
morning,” replied Jack. “ Say, Ward, why didn’t 
you ‘ string out ’ yesterday morning when I called to 
you ? ’ ’ 

“ I didn’t know what you meant,” replied Ward. 

“ Didn’t know what I meant? My, I should think 
even that prig you room with would know that. You 
know the bell gives short, sharp strokes just at the end, 
don’t you? ” 


IN THE LATIN ROOM 


47 


“Yes.” 

“ Well, when you see a lot of fellows come rushing 
across the campus, somewhat in a state of being half 
dressed, you’ll know they’re in danger of being marked 
late. Now, when they yell ‘string out,’ you want to 
j go slower, and by dragging a bit you’ll give the other 
fellows a chance to crowd in before the door is shut and 
it is forever too late. Don’t forget that, my son, next 
time.” 

“I wish we had Blake over in East Hall,” said 
Tim. “ We’d have a lively dance to lead him. 
Crane’s there, and you can’t fool him much.” 

“ Nor fool with him much either,” said Jack. “ I 
know, for I’ve been there myself. He has the Latin, 
you know, Ward, and you’ll have a chance to try him 
to-day. He’s a little fellow, no such strapping giant 
as Blake is, but he knows how to handle the fellows. 
Now, boys, step up and take your medicine. Don’t 
whine nor cry when the doctor takes out the spoon. I 
wish it was night, I do.” 

The boys entered the chapel, and Ward and Jack, 
as they belonged to the same class and in the chapel as 
in the recitation rooms the boys were arranged alpha- 
betically, found they were to be seated together. Ward 
also found that he was sharing somewhat in the anxiety 
of his companion concerning a possible ‘ ‘ lecture ’ ’ from 
the doctor, although he had had no share in the esca- 
pade of the night before. But the exercises were con- 
ducted by Mr. Crane, and the principal was not present. 

“ So far so good,” said Jack, as he and Ward walked 
through the hall which led to the Latin room, and 


48 


WARD HILL AT WESTOtf 


where the first recitation, in which the new boy was to 
share, was to be conducted. “ But we’re not out of 
the woods yet. I hope you know the lesson, Ward. 
As I sit next to you, if Crane calls on me, I’ll have to 
call on you.” 

Ward laughed, but made no reply, as they already 
were in the recitation room. Mr. Crane was there, 
standing by the door, and quietly directing each boy to 
a seat as he entered. 

There were about forty boys in the class, and as 
Ward glanced about the room, his heart beating a little 
more rapidly now as he realized that the actual work of 
the school life had begun, he recognized some, but the 
most of them were strangers to him. Jack had already 
taken his seat and was poring over his open Cicero. 

A hush came over the room as Mr. Crane turned and 
quietly took his place behind the desk. Ward recalled 
what Jack had said, that there would be no fooling in 
his room, and as he noted the self-possessed manner, the 
quiet and yet confident bearing, and above all the keen, 
penetrating glance which the teacher cast about the 
room, he could not help contrasting his manners with 
the self-conscious but not self-confident manner of Mr. 
Blake. W ard decided at once that he should like Mr. 
Crane. 

“ Boyd, you may read the Latin,” said Mr. Crane, 
speaking in a low tone, as if there was no one else in the 
room. 

Then Henry was to be the first one called upon 
to recite. Ward was trembling for his friend and, 
knowing how anxious he was, hoped he would do well. 


IN THE LATIN ROOM 


49 


“ No, not that,” said the teacher, as Henry began 
to translate in a trembling tone. “ Read the Latin, 
if you please.” 

Henry looked up quickly for a moment and then 
! began to read. In a moment there came a look of as- 
tonishment on the faces of many of the boys, and then 
there was a suppressed laughter which soon increased. 
* One or two boys laughed outright, and there was even 
the trace of a smile about the corners of Mr. Crane’s 
mouth. 

‘ ‘ That will do, Boyd, ’ ’ he said quietly, and with a 
glance about the room which quickly suppressed all 
the tendency to disturb the recitation. “ I think that 
is what you may call making Greek out of your Latin. 
Hobart, you may read.” 

Henry took his seat in great confusion. His face 
was flushed and there was a look of pain clearly to be 
seen. What was the trouble? Ward had not seen 
anything to laugh at in the reading of his friend ; but 
his attention was arrested in a moment as he listened to 
Jack while he glibly rolled the Latin words from his 
tongue as if he were reading English. 

“That will do, Hobart. That was very well done. 
Now G. Smith, you may translate.” G. Smith, so 
called to distinguish him from E. Smith, his younger 
brother and classmate, had a room next to Ward’s in 
West Hall, and already the brothers in the school ver- 
nacular were distinguished as Big Smith and Little 
Smith. 

It was reported that they were preparing to enter 
the ministry, and Ward only partially heard the trans- 

D 


50 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


lation Big Smith was giving. He seemed to be doing 
fairly well, but Ward was thinking of the reading 
which Jack Hobart had been giving. It sounded to 
him like another language. He had never heard the 
words pronounced in such an outlandish manner before. 
His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the voice of 
the teacher as he said, “Hill, you may read some 
more of the Latin.” 

Ward quickly rose, although he was in considerable 
confusion. He was not minded to furnish more amuse- 
ment for the class, and he waited a moment before he 
began. As the teacher raised his eyes questioningly at 
the delay, Ward managed to say, “ Mr. Crane, I can’t 
read the Latin as you do here.” 

“ And in jvhat way do you read it ? ” 

“I don’t know what you call it, but it isn’t like 
yours. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ And where have you been studying ? ’ ’ 

“ At home.” 

“And where is your home? ” 

“ In Rockford. I’ve been studying with Dr. Boyd, 
my pastor.” 

“ Ah. Doubtless you’ve been using some other pro- 
nunciation. Very well, you may translate then, if 
you please. You will soon become accustomed to our 
method. ’ ’ 

Ward somehow managed to stumble through his 
work ; but the fact that Mr. Crane called upon an- 
other boy to translate the same passage as soon as he 
had taken his seat, showed him that his work had not 
been satisfactory. He was mortified and glanced 


IN THE LATIN ROOM 


51 


quickly toward Henry. His friend’s face showed 
clearly that he too was suffering, but somehow Ward 
felt that Henry was thinking of his father, and was 
feeling for him in the poor showing his boys were mak- 
ing in their first work in the class-room. 

The hour was at last over, and as the boys passed 
out to go to the Greek room where Dr. Gray was the 
teacher, Ward saw Henry quickly step up to the desk 
of Mr. Crane and begin to speak eagerly to him. 

“ Bootlick ! ” said Jack sneeringly in a low voice to 
Ward as he pointed to his friend. “He’ll soon get 
cured of that. As soon as this scrape with Blake is 
over, the ‘ Tangs ’ will have to take your prig of a chum 
in hand.” 

“He’s no bootlick,” said Ward indignantly, 
“though I don’t know what a bootlick is. What 
is it?” 

“It’s a fellow that tries to curry favor with the 
teachers. Why doesn’t he stand up like a man, and 
not go crawling on his hands and knees the very first 
day.” 

“He isn’t crawling,” said Ward. “He’s trying 
to explain his failure to Mr. Crane.” 

“It’s all the same,” replied Jack. “He’ll be 
fixed, you mark my words. If there’s one thing the 
fellows here won’t stand, it’s a bootlick.” 

The recitation in the Greek room passed off* quietly, 
and Dr. Gray did not call upoM any of the new boys 
to recite. Nor did he make any reference to the dis- 
turbance of the preceding evening in West Hall. 

The school day at Weston was divided into three 


52 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


recitation periods. Two of these were in the morning 
immediately following the services in the chapel, and 
the third was in the afternoon in the hour immediately 
preceding the supper. From eleven until twelve o’clock 
there was an hour which the boys had free, and in the 
afternoon there was the long study time when the stu- 
dents were required to be in their rooms, as they were 
also in the evening. On Wednesdays and Saturdays 
there was a half-holiday and the boys were given their 
full liberty, the only condition being that they were 
not permitted to leave Weston without permission from 
the teachers. 

“You’ll be sure to show up on the ball field this 
afternoon, won’t you?” said Ned during the dinner 
time. “ We’re going to see what the prospects of the 
nine are.” 

“ I thought we had to study all the afternoon,” re- 
plied Ward. 

“No. This is Wednesday, and we’ll have a half- 
day off.” 

“ All right then, and I’ll bring Henry too. He’ll 
show you how to play ball.” 

“ Glad to have him come. We want all we can 
get.” 

When Ward told his room-mate of the invitation, 
Henry refused at first to go. “I can’t do it, Ward. 
I’ve just got to study, and that’s all there is about it. 
I can’t bear to think of my father being put to shame 
as he was this morning in the Latin room. Maybe 
I’ll be down a little later.” 

“ I hope you will, Henry. I just want these fel- 


IN THE LATIN ROOM 


53 


lows to see you play ball once. Hold on, I’ll take a 
hand at the lessons too before we go. I don’t want to 
add anything to your trouble, though I don’t think it’s 
as great as you do. It’ll all come out right pretty 
soon.” 

As the boys entered the hall, Mike the janitor met 
them. 4 ‘Well, young gintlemen, it’s a wurd I’d be 
after havin’ wid yez.” 

“ Have it then, Mike,” said Ward laughingly. 

“ Indade and I will that. I’m nixt to the princi- 
pal, but it’s his wurd I’ll be givin’ yez now. He wants 
the both of yez to come right over to his office.” 

“ What for? ” inquired Henry. 

“ I niver betray the secrets o’ the faculty. The per- 
fessor of dust and ashes knows better nor that ; but it’s 
my opinion ye’d better be goin’.” 

The boys turned and at once started for the office of 
Dr. Gray. There were confused thoughts in Ward’s 
mind and he was thinking of last night’s trouble, of 
the failure in the Latin class, and of many other things 
that might have made them trouble. He would soon 
know, he thought, as they rang the study bell. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE CONVERSATION WITH THE DOCTOR 

“T SENT for you, boys,” said Dr. Gray, when they 
JL were seated in his study, ‘ ‘because I was com- 
pelled to be somewhat hurried when you first came to 
Weston, and I did not wish my welcome to the sons of 
my old friends to be half-hearted.” 

Ward felt relieved at once. Somehow he had been 
half afraid that the poor work in the class-rooms had 
been the cause of the summons, or that the disturbance 
in West Hall might have had something to do with it, 
although he had had nothing to do with that. Ward 
was satisfied that he knew who the leaders in it had 
been, and the very knowledge gave him a sense of guilt. 

The doctor’s face, however, was not in the least stern, 
and with a feeling of relief W ard was listening to what 
he was saying. “ I have no doubt you have already 
found,” resumed the doctor, “ that the life here is very 
different from that to which you have been accustomed, 
and I always tremble a little for the new boys when 
they first come.” 

“That’s just what Ned Butler said,” interposed 
Ward quickly, and then he flushed slightly as he 
thought of his own boldness in interrupting the prin- 
cipal. 

“ Then you already know Edward Butler, do you? ” 
54 


THE CONVERSATION WITH THE DOCTOR 55 


said Dr. Gray kindly, smiling as he saw Ward’s con- 
fusion. “ I’m glad of it ; he’s one of the truest boys 
in the school, a noble fellow, and I am expecting 
great things of him when he leaves us. Not that he 
isn’t doing remarkably well here,” he hastily added ; 
“ but he’s a young man of great promise. What other 
students have you met ? ” 

“Oh, lots of them,” said Ward. “There’s Jack 
Hobart and Tim Pickard, and ’ ’ 

“You have met them too, have you?” Ward 
thought the doctor’s face clouded a little as he spoke. 
“ Well, all I want to say to you is, don’t make friends 
too fast or too easily. Keep a little reserve. Be friendly 
with all, but don’t be in a hurry to make close ac- 
quaintances. A school is a little world and every boy 
is sure to find his own level after a little. You’ll find 
one thing though, and that is, that the boys who are 
really respected and truly popular are not those who 
seek for popularity at all. Now I want to say a word 
about your studies. Much of the work is new to you 
and doubtless you both are somewhat disappointed in 
being classed a year lower than you had hoped. Your 
fathers will be disappointed also, but I have written 
them explaining it all. It is no fault of yours or of 
theirs either. ’ ’ 

Henry’s face flushed a little, and an expression of 
pain came over it which the doctor quickly noticed. 
Indeed, Ward had the feeling that he could read their 
very thoughts, and he was somewhat uncomfortable in 
consequence. 

“Now, the teachers are here to help you, boys ; that’s 


56 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


just what they are here for, and nothing else. So I want 
to advise you to use them. Don’t be afraid to ask 
them to explain matters that are not clear to you, and 
be sure and don’t pass over anything without under- 
standing it as you go.” 

“But, doctor, the fellows call that ‘bootlicking’,” 
said Ward quickly, “and they’re awfully down on 
that. ’ ’ 

•“Never mind what they call it,” said the doctor a 
little more sternly. ‘ ‘ I know of what I am speaking. 
I am not advising you to go against the sentiment of 
the school ; I always respect that just so far as it is 
right. Yes, just so far as it is right,” he added, as if 
to give greater emphasis to his words, and looking 
keenly at Ward as he spoke. “ But when you say the 
fellows are opposed to it, I think I know what ‘ fellows ’ 
you mean. You have not heard Edward Butler speak 
in that manner, have you? ” 

“ No,” said Ward slowly. He was thinking of who 
it w T as that had informed him of the feeling of the school 
toward ‘ ‘ bootlicks, ’ ’ and the thought, in the light of 
the doctor’s words, did not bring him much comfort 
either. 

‘ ‘ I am not talking about trying to curry favor w 7 ith 
the teachers,” resumed the principal, “ for that is 
another matter entirely. All I mean is that you are 
to remember that this school is here to help you to 
make men of yourselves. You often hear the expres- 
sion, ‘ He had the making of a man in him.’ It is a 
sad one to me, for it always implies that he did not 
make the man after all. Your life here will be some- 


THE CONVERSATION WITH THE DOCTOR 57 

thing like the course of a sailboat. The school can 
furnish the wind, but the tiller is in your own hands. 
We can’t do for you what you only can do for your- 
selves. And one of the best things you can do is to 
keep in mind always that you are to receive help from 
the teachers. You will know best when that help is 
needed.” 

“ Then I’ll go over to Mr. Crane this afternoon and 
get him to show me something about how you read 
Latin here. It’s all new to me,” said Henry. 

“ That is just it,” said the doctor ; “ and Mr. Crane 
will be more than glad to show you. He is a most ex- 
cellent teacher, and you will both respect and like him 
the more you come to know him. But I wouldn’t go 
this afternoon if I were you.” 

“ Why not ? ” inquired Henry in surprise. 

“ Because I would go down on the ball field and 
become better acquainted with the boys. Half, and I 
don’t know but more than half, of the best lessons you 
are to learn in Weston will come not from the teachers, 
but from the boys. And as this is the Wednesday 
afternoon holiday, you would better use it as such. You 
can see Mr. Crane after supper to-night, and study this 
evening. I am keeping you too long already, but be- 
fore you go there is one more matter I must mention.” 

The doctor was silent for a moment and his face 
showed a troubled expression. Again Ward thought 
of possible references to poor work in the class-room, or 
of the disturbance in West Hall. As he glanced up 
he saw that the doctor was looking at him and when 
he began to speak his face blushed crimson. 


58 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


‘ ‘ There has fust come to me the report of a disgrace- 
ful act in West Hall last night. I refer to the trick 
that was played upon Mr. Blake. Of course I know 
that neither of you had anything to do with it, but I 
want to speak of it before you go. At Mr. Blake’s 
earnest request I have decided to let the matter pass 
for the present; for the present,” he added. “We 
know who the guilty ones are, but action will be sus- 
pended for a time, as he so earnestly requests it. Now, 
I don’t mind saying to you, boys, that Mr. Blake is 
himself in a very precarious position in the school. He 
is a fine scholar and a most excellent teacher, but he 
is altogether too easy with the boys. For those who 
wish to draw from him he is a valuable man ; but un- 
fortunately there are always a good many boys in a 
school like this for whom we have to create an appetite 
as well as satisfy it. They are always the peril of school 
life. Now, if Mr. Blake fails, for all that he is such a 
good scholar and so excellent a teacher, he will have to 
go. And much will depend upon the boys, and no 
small share will fall to you, for in a way I think you 
will help to form the school spirit.” 

He paused and looked keenly at the boys, but neither 
spoke, and he soon resumed : ‘ ‘ There is something be- 
sides the school to be considered too, in Mr. Blake’s 
case. He is a young man, only out of college two or 
three years, and his college debts are not all paid. His 
mother is a widow, and he has a sister who for years 
has been a helpless invalid. They are almost without 
a support of any kind, and the privations they endured 
to enable him to go through college will never be known, 


THE CONVERSATION WITH THE DOCTOR 59 


I suppose, outside of the family. The little money they 
had then is all gone now, and both are entirely depen- 
dent upon him. If he loses his place here, it will bring 
great suffering to more than one.” 

Ward was listening intently and a new light was 
breaking in upon him. He recalled the sound of 
sobbing which he had heard coming from Mr. Blake’s 
room, and now he thought he understood what before 
had seemed so strange to him. It was Mr. Blake him- 
self who had been weeping, and without doubt he w r as 
thinking of his widowed mother and invalid sister in 
his trouble. Somehow the work of the “ Tangs ” did 
not appear in the same light as it had on the preceding 
evening. 

“ What do you want us to do, doctor? ” said Ward. 

“I don’t want you to mention this talk for one 
thing, for I have taken you both into my confidence. 
Another thing I do want you to do, and that is to 
throw your influence on the right side. Talk Mr. 
Blake up and not down. Do all you can to see that 
his authority is upheld. If he can only work on for a 
year and do fairly well in his discipline, he promises to 
become one of the best men we ever had. And I am 
sure you want everything done which can be done for 
the good of the school from which you soon will be 
graduates.” 

“We’ll do everything in our power,” said Ward 
impulsively ; “ won’t w T e, Henry ? ” 

“Yes,” said Henry slowly. He had taken but 
little part in the conversation, but his silence had 
arisen from no lack of interest. 


60 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ That’s right, boys,” said the doctor cordially, ris- 
ing from his chair as he spoke. 1 ‘ Now I must keep you 
no longer from the ball field. Mrs. Gray and I will 
expect you to dine with us on Monday evening next.” 

The boys quickly left the room, and Dr. Gray stood 
in the doorway for a moment watching them as they 
eagerly ran toward the ball field, from which the shouts 
could be heard of the boys already at their game. He 
soon closed the door and returned to his study, but it 
was several minutes before he resumed his writing. He 
sat looking down at the floor and thinking over the 
interview which had just closed. ‘ £ As like their fathers 
as one pea is like another, ’ ’ he said to himself. 1 ‘ Henry 
is the same sturdy, earnest fellow that his father was. 
Ward can easily outstrip him, if he will try, and has 
far greater capacity for either good or evil. One can 
see just what kind of a man Henry will be, but as for 
Ward, I tremble for him when I think of these next two 
years. He is bound to be a leader, and if he only 
throws the influence he will soon have on the right 
side, it will be a good thing for Weston Academy and 
Ward Hill himself. I pray God the lad may prove 
true to his best self.” And Dr. Gray resumed the 
work on his desk before him. 

Meanwhile Ward and Henry had gained the ball 
field, and like all strong, healthy boys of sixteen, were 
keenly excited by the scene before them. 

“We’ve only six of the old nine left,” said Jack 
Hobart, who quickly sought them out as soon as he 
came in from the field, “and were filling in with 
subs. We’ve a scrub nine playing against us, for all 


THE CONVERSATION WITH THE DOCTOR 61 

we want to-day is to try the new fellows a bit. We’ll 
give you a chance in a minute. Say, Ward, do you 
see who it is playing first base on the scrubs ? ’ ’ 

Ward looked as Jack directed, and to his surprise 
saw Mr. Blake there. Most of the boys were clad in 
the uniforms of the school. Mr. Blake’s long form 
and awkward appearance were rendered doubly awk- 
ward by his dress. He had refused to lay aside his 
coat, and as he jumped about after the ball, his coat- 
tails flying about him, and his long arms waving frantic- 
ally in the air in his desperate efforts to catch the ball, 
he certainly presented a ludicrous sight. 

Ward had just come from Dr. Gray’s study, but 
his words were already forgotten as he watched the 
awkw r ard teacher, and he joined heartily in the laughter 
of Jack. 

“Just watch the boys soak him!” said Jack. 
“ It’s great fun for them, and he gets every ball sent 
in as if it was shot out of a cannon.” 

“It’s a shame to treat him so,” said Henry indig- 
nantly. “ What do they do it for? ” 

“ For fun,” replied Jack. “ Blake can’t play ball 
a little bit, and he ought to know enough to know it 
too, but he doesn’t. Just see that, will you?” and 
he laughed aloud with nearly all the boys as they saw 
the tall teacher try to stop a ball which had been 
thrown with unusual force. It had slipped through 
his hands and struck his body with a thud that could 
be heard all over the field, and all the boys were shout- 
ing with delight. 

“ What does he want to do that for ? ” said Henry, 


62 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


who was sympathizing with the unfortunate teacher. 
“ What makes him try to play when he can’t ? ” 

“ Oh, he’s doing the popular act, that’s all,” re- 
plied Jack, rolling over on the ground in his delight. 
“ He’s trying to curry favor with the fellows, and that 
won’t work. The boys know every time when a teacher 
tries to get their good-will, and he never gets it then.” 

Ward thought of the words of Dr. Gray concern- 
ing the boys who tried to become popular in the school, 
and wondered if both the principal and Jack were not 
correct. 

“No, sir,” resumed Jack, sitting upright on the 
ground now ; “no teacher ever ought to try to take a 
hand in athletics unless he’s a good one. The fellows 
will fix him every time, and he’s the loser. Hello, 
we’re out ! ” he exclaimed, as he rose from the ground 
where he had been seated. “ Say, Tim, can’t you find 
a place for these two fellows on the scrubs ? ’ ’ 

“I guess so,” replied the captain. “Mr. Blake’s 
had enough and Big Smith’s quit.” 

Both Ward and Henry quickly threw aside their 
coats and were ready to take the positions assigned 
them. 


CHAPTER VII' 


NEW PLANS 

T HE two hours which followed were hours of pure 
enjoyment to Ward, and his pride in the prowess of 
his chum was not put to shame. Ward had for a long 
time been an enthusiastic player, and in his little vil- 
lage home both he and Henry had been considered re- 
markable. It was a source of deep satisfaction to him 
to perceive that when the time came to compare them- 
selves with the boys of the academy, they were not one 
whit behind them, and indeed Henry gave promise of 
excelling them all. He had entered heartily into the 
game, and batted and ran the bases as if his very life 
were depending upon his efforts. 

“ That’s the longest hit ever seen on these grounds,” 
shouted Ned Butler, who was the catcher of the nine, 
as Henry dropped his bat and started for first base. 

‘ ‘ Go it, Henry ! Go it ! ” he shouted again as Henry 
started on and cleared the bases before the ball had 
been returned to the infield. 

But Ward, who had been shouting his words of en- 
couragement also, noticed a look of dislike on Tim 
Pickard’s face. As the captain and pitcher of the 
nine he had felt that Henry’s success had in a measure 
reflected upon his own ability, and the feeling of jeal- 
ousy was perhaps only the natural result. And yet 

63 


64 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


what a handsome fellow he was, Ward thought. He 
was larger than any of the boys in the school, and as 
he had sent the balls with all his strength and skill 
over the plate every time Henry had stepped to the 
plate, and as his left-handed delivery had usually puz- 
zled most of the boys, especially the new-comers, his 
chagrin at Henry’s success was the more marked. 

Henry was almost as tall as the pitcher, but not so 
heavy. He w r as possessed of remarkable strength how T - 
ever, as Ward well knew, for in their almost daily 
struggle to put each other on the bed, Ward, who was 
himself no weakling, had almost invariably found him- 
self measuring his length beneath his chum. 

Ned Butler, the catcher, was shorter but possessed of 
remarkably broad shoulders, and his deep chest showed 
his powers of endurance. As a swift and straight 
thrower he was the best in the school with the single 
exception of Tim Pickard, the pitcher. 

As the game went on, the enthusiasm of the specta- 
tors and that of the nine increased, for each test of 
Ward and Henry showed that they were the equals of 
the best, and when at last they all were ready to quit 
the grounds, and began to gather up the bats, Ned said 
to Jack Hobart, who as usual was the center of the 
noisy group of players: “Well, Speck, we’ve got two 
good men for the nine anyhow. I never saw such a 
hitter on this field as you are, Henry.” 

“Right you are!” replied Jack enthusiastically, 
striking Ward upon the back. “ You’re both of you 
sure to make the nine. We’ll show the Burrs a trick 
or two this fall.” 


NEW PLANS 


65 


All of the boys seemed to share in the enthusiasm of 
the new additions to the nine, except the captain, Tim 
Pickard. He had not said a word in praise of the new 
boys, and the dark scowl on his face grew more and 
more forbidding. As he was the natural leader of a 
certain class of the boys, his physical strength, the 
wealth he was supposed to possess, and his place in the 
class all combining to produce this, it was not long be- 
fore the first enthusiasm of some of the admirers of 
I Ward and Henry began to cool perceptibly. 

* ‘ Come up to my room, fellows, ’ ’ said Tim, * ‘ at 
least all the members of the nine. I want to talk over 
j some of the plans I have.” 

“Of course you want Ward and Henry to come 
i too,” interposed Ned quickly. “ They’re sure to make 
the nine, and the sooner they come in the better. ’ ’ 

“Yes, Tim wants them both to come, I know,” 
spoke up Jack as he noticed a momentary hesitation on 
the part of his friend. “ Tim meant to include them 
both, I’m sure.” 

“ Yes, I suppose so,” said the captain. “ Let them 
come if they want to. ” 

“ But I don’t want to,” said Henry quietly. “I 
donjt know that I shall have time to play on the nine 
anyway. I’ve got to work harder than you fellows, 
and certainly I sha’n’t come if I’m not wanted.” 

Henry looked straight at Tim as he spoke, and Ward 
knew that although he was speaking quietly he was 
thoroughly angry. Whenever he saw those white 
spots on his cheeks, he knew what to expect. 

“He’ll come, I know he’ll come,” said Ned Butler 

E 


66 


WAKD HILL AT WESTON 


drawing Henry’s arm under his own. “You fellows 
go up to Tim’s room, and we’ll join you in a few min- 
utes. I want to go around to my room first, and 
Henry’ll go along with me, and then we’ll come right 
up. Come on, Henry,” he added as he started from 
the field. 

Henry went with his friend and they walked slowly 
on behind the other boys who had already started for 
Tim Pickard’s room in East Hall. 

“I’m glad you came,” said Ned, as lie. and Henry 
walked on together. “ There were some things I 
wanted to say to you, and this is the best time, I guess.” 

Henry made no reply, for his heart was still hot with- 
in him. In spite of his quiet manner, he had a great 
deal of pride in his make-up, and the feeling which Tim 
Pickard had displayed had stung him to the quick. Be- 
sides, he had been more than half in earnest when he 
had declared that he did not know whether he could 
play on the nine or not. His studies were first in his 
mind, and as he * thought again of the mortification of 
his father when he should hear that the boys were classed 
lower than he had confidently expected, he was deter- 
mined that nothing should be allowed to interfere with 
his work. He was thinking of his father as he walked 
on and his face even then grew soft. Was there ever 
such a man as he ? Tender-hearted as a child, sympa- 
thetic and always willing to do anything that lay within 
his power for another, few boys, he thought, had ever 
been so fortunate as he in having such a father. And 
yet, even then Henry, although he was himself uncon- 
scious of it, was on the defensive toward him. Before, 


NEW PLANS 


67 




he had never doubted his father’s ability as a teacher. 
His father’s stories of school experiences and how high 
he had ranked in college had been familiar to him from 
his earliest days. And now in a measure the illusion 
was vanishing. The plain state of the case was that 
both he and W ard were not well prepared to go on even 
with the boys in the class to which they had been as- 
signed, and nothing would avail but the hardest kind of 
work. Poor Henry ! It is always a critical time in a 
boy’s life when first there comes the suggestion that 
perhaps his father after all is not the great man he had 
always considered him to be. Nothing but affection 
already secure can hold a boy at such a crisis and when 
the natural reaction comes. 

‘‘Yes, I wanted to talk with you,” resumed Ned 
who had been silent for a few moments, as he realized 
that the thoughts of his companion had not been with 
him. “ I want you to go on the nine for several rea- 
sons. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What are they ? ’ ’ 

“ One is, because you’ll be one of our best men and 
we want to uphold the name of the old school. I know 
Dr. Gray believes in this sort of thing, and you’ll do 
him a good turn as well as have a good time yourself. ’ ’ 

As Henry still made no reply, he continued : “ And 
another reason is for the sake of the boys. I don’t like 
to say it, but Tim doesn’t have a very good influence on 
the fellows. He’s such a good player and is so free 
with his money, that lots of them think he’s just the 
best sort of a chap. But, Henry, he’s doing lots of 
harm. The last time we went over to play the Burrs, 


68 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


he and two or three fellows slipped away from the crowd 
and lost the train, or pretended that they did, and when 
they came back they were drunk as lords. None of the 
fellows said anything about it, though they knew of it 
all the time.” 

Henry in his quiet village home had always been 
trained to believe that drinking was one of the worst of 
sins. It was something of which he knew only by re- 
port, for drunkenness was not common there, and the 
words of his friend fell like lead upon his mind. He 
could not restrain the look of disgust which swept over 
his face as Ned spoke. 

“ I don’t mean to squeal on him now,” resumed Ned, 
“ and I’m almost sorry I told you ; but if you come on 
the nine you’ll help to keep things straight, and just 
now there’s special need of it.” 

“What did they make such a fellow captain of the 
nine for ? ” 

“I can’t tell just how it came about, but Speck, 
who rooms with him and is one of the most popular fel- 
lows in school, worked it somehow. But there’s a good 
deal of feeling among the fellows and it wouldn’t take 
but a vote or two to throw him out yet, and he knows 
it. I suspect that is one of the reasons why he isn’t 
very favorable to you. But you’ll go in just the same, 
won’t you?” 

“Yes, I think so ; that is, if the other fellows want 
me.” 

“ Of course they want you. But here we are. My 
room’s on the first floor. Come in a minute and then 
we’ll go right over to Tim’s and Speck’s room. It’s in 


NEW PLANS 


69 


the other end of East. Sit down and I’ll be ready in 
half a minute,” he added as they entered his room. 

Henry seated himself and glanced about the room. 
How beautiful it was and what a contrast to his own in 
West Hall. For the first time he had a feeling like, 
that of Ward’s at the superior opportunities of some of 
the boys. The floor was covered with a warm rich 
carpet, and beautiful pictures were hanging from the 
walls. There were easy-chairs, and what to Henry 
seemed like everything for one’s comfort. 

“It’s a pretty good sort of a den, isn’t it?” said 
Ned coming out of his bedroom. “ I room here alone, 
for my father wanted me to be alone for the first year, 
and somehow I’ve kept on in the same way during the 
other two years. Sometimes I think I’d like a chum, 
but then you know a chum might not like me, ’ ’ and he 
laughed merrily. 

“ I should think most any one would be glad to come 
in here with you,” said Henry slowly. 

“ Most too late now, for this is my last year,” said 
Ned ; “ but I’ve left the room pretty much as mother 
fixed it for me when she came up with me when I 
entered.” 

‘ * Does she come up often ? ’ ’ asked Henry, noticing 
a softened expression on Ned’s face as he referred to 
his mother. 

“No, she’s dead. She died during my first year.” 
And Ned’s eyes filled with tears. 

“ Oh, I’m so sorry I spoke of it,” said Henry, almost 
overwhelmed as he saw his friend’s sorrow. 

“ You’ve no need to be,” replied Ned smiling. “ I 




70 WARD HILL AT WESTON 

haven’t forgotten her if she is gone. Sometimes when 
I sit alone here in the evening it almost seems as if she 
was here too. At any rate I know the thought of her 
has kept me straight a good many times when I might 
have got off. But do you know, the fellows whose 
mothers are alive, it always seemed to me, ought to be i 
straighter still, for they can follow them. My father,” ! 
he added more cheerfully, 4 ‘ has always insisted upon 
my boarding at the hash-house. I’m not sorry for it 
either, for I like it, and he thinks it’s better for the 
fellows to be thrown in together in the way they are 
there.” 

“ Then they don’t always feed you on veal there ? ” 

“ Who’s been talking with you? Speck? That 
sounds like him. He has made a great hobby of the 
veal at the hash -house.” 

Henry laughed and acknowledged that Jack had 
been his informant concerning the diet at the dining 
hall, and arose to follow his friend who was now ready 
to go over to Tim Pickard’s room. 

‘ ‘ I hope you’ll come over often, ’ ’ said Ned. “ Some- 
how I have the feeling that we shall be pretty good 
friends before the year is over. ’ ’ 

“ I shall be glad to.” And Henry meant what he 
said, although he was wondering what Ned would think 
of his own bare room in West Hall when he should 
see it. 

As they approached Tim’s room they could hear the 
shouts and laughter of the boys assembled there, and 
Ned said: “Tim’s over his ill nature, I guess. It 
doesn’t last very long with him usually.” 


NEW PLANS 


71 


“ Come in ! What are you staying out there for ? ” 
shouted Jack in response to their rap. 

Ned and Henry entered and the latter was surprised 
when he saw that the room was far better furnished 
even than Ned’s. Ward was there, but Henry saw a 
troubled expression upon his face, although he was 
laughing noisily. 

“ You’ll have to sit on the floor, fellows,” said Tim 
pleasantly, as they entered ; “all the reserved seats 
have been taken.” 

4 ‘ Go on with your story, Tim, ’ ’ shouted one of the 
boys. 

“All right,” responded Tim, and he at once re- 
sumed a story which evidently had been interrupted by 
the entrance of the two boys. 

He had scarcely begun again before Henry looked 
in surprise and disgust at Ned. The story was a filthy 
one and Tim seemed to be enjoying it. Some of the 
boys appeared to enjoy it also, but Henry noted a 
bright red spot on each of Ned’s cheeks, and in a mo- 
ment his friend rose and started toward the door. 

“Hold on, Ned, where are you going?” called 
Jack. 

“I’m going to leave this room,” said Ned quietly. 

“What’s the trouble? ” inquired Tim. 

“Nothing, except that I think too much of myself 
to listen to any such stuff as you are getting off.” And 
before another word could be spoken Ned had opened 
the door and started down the hallway. 


CHAPTER VIII 


NED BUTLERS TALK 



N awkward silence came over the room as soon as 


Ned left, and for a moment the boys looked at 
one another as if they were not quite certain of them- 
selves. There was an angry flush on the face of Tim 
Pickard, and he looked sneeringly toward the door 
through which Ned disappeared. 

Before any one spoke Henry rose and said : “If this 
is the kind of a baseball meeting you hold, I don’t think 
you had better count on me.” And he too started 
toward the door, followed by three or four of the other 
boys. 

“ Oh, hold on, Henry,” said Jack quickly ; “ we’ll 
attend strictly to business now. Come on back, it’ll be 
all right now.” 

But the boys made no reply and quickly left the 
room. Ward had hesitated a moment and his hesita- 
tion proved his weakness. He had forgotten all about 
the decided “yes” and “no” of which Ned Butler 
had spoken at their first meeting. To do Ward justice 
we must say that he had no sympathy with what had 
occurred, and deep down in his heart he had a feeling 
of increased respect for Ned. He knew he was right, 
but the presence of the other boys had served as a check 
upon his own impulse to follow Henry and he had re- 


72 


NED BUTLER'S TALK 


73 


mained in the room, although he was far from feeling 
at ease there. 

“You’ve done it now, Tim,” said Jack. “You 
know what Ned Butler is and you might have had the 
I decency to wait at least until he had gone.” 

“Let ’em go if they want to. We can get along 
without them,” replied Tim angrily. 

“ Well the nine can’t, if you can,” said Jack. “We 
haven’t a catcher in the school like Ned, and Henry’s 
the longest hitter ever seen on the grounds. And just 
when we had a good chance to pay off old scores with 
the Burrs you must go and upset it all. I say it’s a 
shame ! ’ ’ 

But Tim made no reply. His face showed that 
he was thoroughly angry rather than ashamed. The 
meeting, however, soon broke up and Ward departed 
for his room in West Hall. 

As Henry did not refer to the trouble when he came, 
Ward also made no reference to it, and apparently the 
subject was dropped. Another meeting of the nine was 
called on the following day after the morning recita- 
tions were finished, and as Ned and Henry were there, 
the trouble seemed to be over. 

A letter from the Burrs had already been received 
and the annual fall game was arranged to take place 
within three weeks on the grounds of the Burrs. As 
all this happened before football had become the na- 
tional autumn game, the baseball fever is readily ex- 
plained. 

And now the days began to pass rapidly. There 
was the practice of the nine every afternoon, and the 


74 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


studies and recitations of each day. Ward had meant 
what he had said to Henry and entered into the work 
with all his heart. He learned easily and rapidly, and 
after three days he began to be looked upon as one of 
the promising scholars of his class. 

Henry was more of a plodder, but he too was gaining 
a fair standing in his class and things were promising 
now for both our boys. They increased the number of 
their acquaintances, and the boys in their own hall soon 
became like familiar friends. In addition to Big Smith 
and Little Smith, there were two brothers who had 
the room adjoining Ward’s, and they soon came to be 
known as Big Alden and Little Alden. 

But already the boys were beginning to seek their 
own, and Ward found that he was drawn more and 
more toward East Hall, and spent many hours in Jack 
Hobart’s room. He was greatly drawn to Jack, for 
with his impulsive ways and generous heart, he was a 
general favorite in spite of the fact that he was known 
to be in almost every scrape, and gave just as little 
time to his books as he could possibly and yet maintain 
himself in the class. 

On Sunday morning all the school assembled in the 
little village church where attendance was required, 
and seats were reserved for the boys. Ward had not 
felt especially interested in the service, for it seemed to 
him that the preacher was looking over his head all the 
time at the older people who sat in the back pews and 
in the gallery of the church. 

In the afternoon there was a Bible class for each of 
the various classes of the school. Mr. Crane conducted 


NED BUTLER’S TALK 


75 


the one to which Ward and Henry went, and as they 
were required to attend this class, and as Ward had 
come to entertain a very strong regard already for Mr. 
Crane, he was greatly interested in all that he said. 

In the evening, the attendance upon public service 
was not required, but there was to be a school prayer 
meeting and Ward was somewhat undecided as to 
whether he would go . or not. He knew that Henry 
would go, and doubtless expect him to go also, but 
although he said nothing of his feeling, he was begin- 
ning to resent the implied oversight of his chum. 

“Come up to my room, Speck,” he said to Jack 
after supper, when he met him on the campus. 

“Don’t care if I do,” replied Jack, and the two 
boys soon made their way to Ward’s room. He lighted 
his lamp and then tipped his chair back against the 
wall. The room seemed to be more bare than ever be- 
fore, and he could not keep from thinking of the con- 
trast it must present to Jack. 

“Say, Ward,” said Jack, who to do him justice 
had no feeling of elation over his own superior posses- 
sions, “if you keep on, we’ll make a valedic out of 
you. You haven’t flunked once in class since you’ve 
been here.” 

Ward laughed and although he was pleased at the 
words of praise, he said : “You can’t tell how long 
it’ll last, Speck. I do want to put in my best work, 
though.” 

“ Right, my son. Only don’t make a dig out of 
yourself. You know the doctor says the ball field is 
most as important as the Greek room. I’m not afraid 


76 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


of passing in baseball, but if it wasn’t for my pony, I 
don’t know what I’d do in Greek. And as for Latin 
I don’t dare to use one there much, so I suppose I shall 
have the pleasure of another year with Mr. Crane. 
Three times and out, you know. ’ ’ 

“ What’s a pony, Speck ? ” 

“ A pony ? You don’t mean to say you don’t know 
what a pony is ! Why a pony is, a — well — it’s a trans- 
lation ; that’s all. Here I’ve got a slip in my pocket 
now,” and Jack showed him a leaf torn from a trans- 
lation of the Greek which the class was then reading. 

“What do you do with this, Speck?” said Ward 
slowly. 

“ Do with it ! What do you suppose I do with it? 
I take it into class and use it to instruct the doctor 
with. It’s a good deal better than the translation I 
could give him, and besides it saves me a lot of mid- 
night oil. I must be economical whatever else I am. 
But I’ve got to give it up with Mr. Crane. He ob- 
jects. Don’t you remember what he said yesterday? 
‘ Hobart, I think I shall have to advise you to use an- 
other translation. That isn’t quite so good as some 
others. ’ ’ ’ 

“ That’s what made all the fellows laugh so then, 
yesterday, when Mr. Crane sat you down, was it ? I 
didn’t quite understand.” 

“That’s it, my gentle innocent. But Mr. Crane’s 
like a buzz-saw. It won’t do to monkey around him 
very much.” 

“ I like him, though.” 

“So do I,” replied Jack heartily. “All the fel- 


NED BUTLEI^S TALK 


77 


lows respect him, and the most of them like him too. 
They always like a man who brings them squarely up 
to the line. Now if Blake would only do that too, the 
fellows would all like him a great deal better. How 
does he get along with the boys here in the Hall ? ’ ’ 

Ward laughed as he said, “ Only fairly well. If 
the great big man would only take hold of some one, 
he’d stop the rackets.” He said no more, as he was 
thinking of Dr. Gray’s words. Certainly the study 
hours were not very well observed in West Hall, and 
already Ward knew that a feeling of uneasiness was 
growing among the boys who roomed there. 

“Say, Ward,” resumed Jack, “ I want to give you 
a tip. Don’t let your chum get too far away from 
you. I’m afraid he’ll have trouble.” 

4 4 What do you mean ? ” said Ward. 

“Oh, nothing much. I mustn’t give away too 
much. But some of the fellows are getting down on 
him. You remember what I said about the ‘ Tangs ’ — 
oh, here he is now,” he said abruptly, rising from his 
chair as Henry and Ned Butler entered the room. 

Had Henry overheard his words ? W ard could not 
tell, but he was much confused as he arose and offered 
his chair to Ned. The room contained but three chairs, 
and when there were four boys in it some one of neces- 
sity either must stand or sit on the table. 

“ Keep your seat, Ward,” said Ned. “ We’re not 
going to stay.” 

“ We’re going around to the meeting. You’re com- 
ing, aren’t you, Ward ? ” said Henry. 

“I don’t know,” replied Ward slowly. He was a 


78 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


little angry at Henry for liis assumption of authority, 
and then too, he was wondering what Jack would think. 

“ Don’t let me keep you, Ward,” said Jack hastily, 
preparing at once to take his leave. 

“ No ; come on yourself, Speck,” said Ned. “We 
need all the help we can get.” 

Jack hesitated a moment and then said : “ All right. 
I’ll go to-night ; but ‘ don’t let this be a precedent,’ in 
the language of Blake. I wouldn’t dare to do that.” 

The boys laughed and started together for the Latin 
room, in which the meeting was to be held. The room 
seemed to be pretty well filled when they entered, and 
the service already had begun. 

There were many curious' glances cast at Jack as he 
entered and took a seat with Ward near the door. 
“ That’s in case of danger, so that I can flee in time,” 
he whispered to Ward. But Ward made no reply. 
He was interested in what was going on about him. 

Big Smith was taking some part now. His voice 
had fallen to an unnaturally low pitch, and it did not 
sound like his own. As he went on Jack whispered : 
“ He’s going to be a minister, and he’s practising for 
it now. Just hear his tone, will you ? He’ll be a doc- 
tor of divinity, as sure’s you’re born. He’s most too 
short-winded though for that, I guess,” he added, as 
Big Smith soon was seated again. 

Another and another took part, and Ward could not 
keep back the suggestion Jack had put into his mind 
that some of the boys were using the meeting as a prac- 
tice place. He forgot all about his own duty and was 
listening as if he were an outsider. 


NED BUTLER'S TALK 


79 


There came a change, however, when Ned Butler 
rose and began to talk. “I don’t know much about 
this joy and peace I’ve heard so much about to-night. 
If I do right, it’s almost always because I have to fight 
to do it. But I tell you, fellows, I believe there is 
such a thing as right. I haven’t forgotten what I’ve 
been taught,” and AVard, in surprise, thought he de- 
tected a break in his voice. He did not know what 
Ned had told Henry of his own loss, but many of the 
boys were aware of his sorrow. Jack was listening in- 
tently, and AA r ard was surprised to see a thoughtful and 
softened expression upon his face. He turned again to 
follow Ned’s words, for he had quickly resumed. “ If 
there is a right, then it’s right to do right, and that’s 
about all I know about it. It doesn’t take us boys 
long to find out a sneak, and we know every time when 
a fellow is square and fair. Now this school was never 
in greater need of fellows who will stand by their colors 
than it is now ; fellows who are clean and above-board, 
who are not afraid of what the boys will think, but of 
what they themselves will think of themselves. I’ve 
been here three years, and this, as you all know, is to be 
my last, that is, if I’m lucky enough to finish ; and I 
want to say right here, that some of the best things I’ve 
learned have been from the boys in the class ahead of 
me, who wouldn’t have a hand in anything that was 
low or vile. Every one of us has to meet it in some 
form, and it either makes or breaks us. I’m not try- 
ing to preach, for I can’t ; but I do want to say that 
every one of us is called upon to stand by what we 
know is right just now, and stand fast too.” 


80 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Ned sat down and the meeting, as far as Ward was 
concerned, was over. Some others took part, some 
earnestly, and some v T ho W ard thought were practising. 
He had half suspected that Ned intended a special re- 
buke for them in the words he had spoken. 

When they went outWard was unusually thought- 
ful and even Jack had been in a manner impressed. 

“ That Ned Butler’s the straightest fellow this school 
ever had in it,” said Jack. “There isn’t a bit of 
pious whine or cant about him. He never reaches out 
and pats us poor sinners on the head either. My, 
but didn’t he show up well alongside that freak, Big 
Smith ! ” 

“ Big Smith’s all right, I guess,” replied Ward. 

“ Oh, yes, he’s all right enough ; only when he talks 
about religion it makes me feel as if it w T as something 
like the measles. You sort o’ ought to have it, and 
have it once, and be done with it. But Ned Butler, 
why, he never preaches, but somehow do you know I 
never see him on the ball field or anywhere, without 
thinking that he’s got something I haven’t, and I wish 
I had it too, though I shouldn’t want to lose my 
mother to get it. Oh, dear ! maybe if I’d been his 
chum I’d have been a better fellow now.” 

The boys walked on in silence for a time, and Ward 
was sharing in the feelings of his companion. He too 
had been impressed by Ned’s earnest and frank manner, 
as well as by his words. He thoroughly liked him, and 
felt a trifle piqued as he thought of the evident prefer- 
ence he had shown already for Henry. 

“ Hello, Speck, we’ve been looking all over for you.” 


NED BUTLER’S TALK 


81 


It was Tim Pickard who spoke, and in a moment W ard 
felt that the contrast between him and Ned jarred and 
irritated him. 

“ Come on, Speck, the ‘Tangs’ ” Ward could 

! hear no more, for Tim had lowered his voice and was 
! whispering eagerly to Jack. 

In a moment Jack said : “ Good-night, Ward, I’ll 
see you in the morning.” 

Somehow Ward gained the impression that Jack was 
wanting to stay, but the influence of Tim Pickard had 
proved too strong and he had gone with him. 

“ I wonder what the ‘ Tangs ’ are up to, and on Sun- 
day night too,” thought Ward, as he walked on toward 
West Hall. Suddenly the thought of the warning Jack 
had given him of the feelings of the ‘ ‘ Tangs ’ ’ toward 
Henry came to him. Could it be that they were plan- 
ning something against him ? Startled in spite of him- 
self by the suggestion, and forgetting all about the 
meeting he had just come from, Ward started and ran 
rapidly up the walk which led to West Hall. 


F 


CHAPTER IX 


AN INTERRUPTION 

H ENRY was not in the room when Ward entered, 
and with a feeling of relief he turned on the light 
and soon seated himself by the table. But he was not 
able to interest himself in the open book which he held 
in his hand, and soon found himself thinking over the 
events of the day, foremost among which was the meeting 
with Tim Pickard a few moments before. 

Somehow in Ward’s mind there was a feeling of un- 
easiness whenever he thought of the ‘ ‘ Tangs. ’ ’ Doubtless 
Jack had greatly exaggerated their doings in the many 
stories he had told him, but if only one half of them 
were true, the society was a menace to the best life of 
the school. 

It was dangerous to incur their enmity and they never 
failed to pay off their grudges, so Jack had declared 
again and again. But Ward had never been able to 
discover who the boys were who belonged to it, and 
even Jack had laughingly declared that he was not go- 
ing to give away the secrets, nor would he say that he 
himself was a leader in it, although of this latter point 
Ward never had any doubts. 

The society was almost as old as the school itself and 
the teachers were all bitterly opposed to its existence. 
Indeed Jack had declared with considerable enthusiasm 
82 


AN INTERRUPTION 


83 


that again and again they had tried to suppress it, but 
the only result had been that it had been “ suppressed,” 
but not killed. Openly the society for a time had ceased 
to be, but secretly, its work had been kept alive, and 
now it was flourishing again more or less openly. 

The ‘ ‘ best fellows in the school belonged to it, ’ * so 
Jack had declared ; but the vision of what Jack meant 
by the “best fellows,” rose before Ward’s mind. 
Doubtless he referred to the students who had plenty of 
money, who did just as little work as it was possible for 
them to do, and were in the school because they had been 
sent by their fathers rather than had come because 
they wished to learn. “ They’re all East Hall boys,” 
thought Ward a little bitterly, looking around his room 
which had never seemed so bare to him as it did on that 
night. The rooms in East Hall did not look much like 
his. 

And yet as he thought of it, he w T as satisfied that not 
all the East Hall boys were or could be members of a 
society which had for its avowed purpose the carrying 
on of pranks and furnishing the disorderly element of 
the school life. “ Ned Butler would not belong to such 
a crowd,” thought Ward, and there were a good many 
others who, although they were able to have the pleasant 
rooms in East Hall, would not be guilty of engaging in 
any of the pranks which the “ Tangs seemed ever to 
have in mind. 

The thought of Ned Butler carried his mind back to 
the meeting of the evening and his sturdy words sounded 
again in his ears. ‘ ‘ Do right because it is right to do 
right.” Ward knew how warmly his father and 


84 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


mother would approve of that, and how glad they would 
be to have him friendly with such a fellow as Ned. 
But then, Ned had shown a very decided preference 
for Henry, and perhaps he himself was not cared for. 

He became a little bitter at the suggestion, and that, 
combined with the thought of his home and the loneliness 
of the hour, made Ward for the first time since he had 
come to Weston, a trifle homesick. What a pleasure it 
would be to look in upon the old home now. Doubt- 
less they all were just about returning from the even- 
ing service at this time and had been listening to the 
words of Dr. Boyd. 

Ward smiled as he thought of what those words prob- 
ably had been, for the good doctor was never known 
to vary very much from the customary exhortation he 
had used for many years. But he was a noble man, 
and had been a true friend to him, and rousing him- 
self from his re very he determined to do all that lay 
within his power for Henry, for somehow he had the 
impression that Henry had incurred the anger of the 
“Tangs” and he was fearful of coming trouble, al- 
though he could not just determine what form it was 
likely to take. 

He had just taken his book again when there came a 
rap on the door. Half hoping that Henry had returned, 
he called “ Come in.” 

“ I thought you had come back,” said Big Smith as 
he entered and took the chair which was offered him. 
W ard had not felt very strongly drawn to his visitor, 
but he rejoiced at anything which would drive away his 
present thoughts, so he cordially welcomed his classmate. 


AN INTERRUPTION 


85 


“ I was glad to see you at the meeting to-night,” re- 
sumed Big Smith. He was speaking solemnly and 
W ard at first did not know whether to laugh at the con - 
descending air of his visitor, or be angry at his manner. 

“ Yes, I liked it. But I don’t know what you mean 
by that. Did you think I was a heathen man or a pub- 
lican, who never went to such places ? ’ ’ 

“Not at all. Only I was rejoiced to see you there. 
The fellows must make much of such things. I hear 
there are lots of ungodly boys here in school.” 

“ Do you think there are any more here than any- 
where else ? ’ ’ 

“Yes I do. Down in Vernon, where I live, there 
are no such boys as Tim Pickard or Ned Butler.” 

“Ned Butler ! You don’t mean to say there is any- 
thing the matter with him, do you ? ’ ’ 

“Why, yes,” replied Big Smith. “Didn’t you 
hear him to-night ? ” 

“Yes I did, and what he said struck home to me 
too.” 

“ That’s no way to talk,” said Big Smith, solemnly 
shaking his head. “The idea of any one saying it 
was hard work to do right. It’s the comfort of my life 
that I don’t have any such feelings in my heart. I 
just like to do these things.” 

“What things?” 

“Why to speak in meeting and talk. I hope I 
shall have a good influence in the school.” 

“ You’re going to be a minister, aren’t you?” in- 
quired Ward. 

“Yes, sir, I am. My parents prayed for it before I 


86 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


was born. I’ve been practising reading hymns every 
day since I have been here.” 

“ Then that’s what you think it is to be a preacher, 
do you ? ” replied Ward, laughing in spite of himself 
at the solemn tone and manner of his visitor. 

“ That’s a good part of it. I don’t see the use of 
wasting all these years in school and college, for my 
part. I’d just like to begin my work right away. 
They took up a collection in church for me and George 
(George was his younger brother and room-mate as 
well as classmate) and for Pond. He rooms right 
under me you know.” 

“Yes, I know, and he’s a fine fellow too, Pond is. 
He’s going to be a regular dig. When I asked him to 
go down to the ball field he said he couldn’t. He felt 
as if he must put in all the work he could as others 
were paying his expenses here, and he felt that he ought 
to give them the very best return he could in the 
work he was doing, and he said he was away behind 
in his studies. I tell you I look up to him as I do to 
few of the fellows here. He’s square as a die, and 
next to Ned Butler, there isn’t a fellow in school can 
touch him. Everybody likes him, and he’ll lead the 
class too before he’s done, in my opinion.” 

“Ahem!” replied Big Smith. “Yes, Pond is a 
good fellow, a very good fellow ; but he works as if he 
thought the work he was doing was the most important 
thing. Now I don’t. I’ve been working on a sermon 
since I’ve been here. I’ll go and get it and read it to 
you ” 

“Oh, sit still,” said Ward quickly. He had no 


AN INTERRUPTION 


87 


desire to hear a sermon then, much less one that Big 
Smith had prepared. 

“Then you don’t think Pond has the right of it 
in trying to pay for what the people in Vernon are 
doing for him, by putting in his best work here ? ’ ’ 

“ That’s not the proper way to look at it,” replied 
Big Smith dropping once more into his sepulchral tone. 
‘ ‘ It ought to be a privilege, a great privilege for the 
Vernon people to know they are helping a man to be a 
preacher. Just think of the honor — three boys going 
out from the same place, at the same time, and for the 
same purpose. Yes, I think it’s a great thing.” 

4 4 Then Little Smith is going to be a preacher too, 
is he ? ” 

44 Yes, George is of the way too. He’s been reading 
hymns aloud all the afternoon since the Bible class. 
His voice isn’t heavy enough yet though.” 

44 Do you know what I think of you? ” said Ward 
impulsively rising. 44 I’d give more for Pond’s little 
finger than I would for your whole body. You haven’t 
made a decent recitation since you’ve been in Weston. 
You haven’t even got the confidence of the fellows; 
you haven’t got a soul big enough to find with a needle. 
You ” 

Ward suddenly stopped. In his sudden zeal he had 
thought that by denouncing his classmate, he was 
strengthening his own heart. Perhaps certain thoughts 
in his own mind had made him somewhat uncomfort- 
able, and he found a certain kind of pleasure in speak- 
ing so sharply to another of his shortcomings, that his 
own would be lost sight of for the time. 


88 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“You needn’t go on, Ward,” said Big Smith ris- 
ing. “ What you’ve said is all uncalled-for. I think 
I know my duty and I sha’n’t turn from it. It isn’t 
earthly knowledge I need, but heavenly. The saints 
have always been persecuted and I don’t suppose I 
ought to be any exception. I am not angry. I shall 
try to heap coals of fire on your poor silly head, Ward. 
Yes, coals of fire.” 

“ Make ’em hot then, the hotter the better,” re- 
plied W ard, his anger returning in a moment. 1 ‘ I 
don’t want any whining ” 

Ward suddenly stopped and both boys jumped to 
their feet. What was that? A dull rumbling had 
been heard, apparently beginning directly over them 
on the floor above. It had begun gradually, but 
steadily increased. Apparently it swept with a noise 
of thunder directly past the door of the room, and 
went on down the long winding stairway, with increased 
volume as it went. 

“ What was that ? What’s that ? ” said Big Smith. 

Ward made no reply as he dashed out into the hall. 
The boys from all the rooms came flocking out and ran 
rapidly together down the stairway to the first floor 
where the climax seemed to have come, although 
nothing could be heard now but the voices of the 
excited boys. 

In a moment Ward and Big Smith were standing in 
the group which had gathered about the tall form of 
Mr. Blake, who also had rushed into the hall at the 
noise and now was holding a large cannon ball in his 
hand. 


AN INTERRUPTION 


89 


44 Who rolled this down the stairs ? ” he said, looking 
about at the boys. 

No one made any reply. Now that the alarm was 
over the boys were all laughing, although they saw 
that the door of the hall had been smashed by the ball, 
as it came to the end of its descent. 

4 4 Somebody might have been killed by it , 5 ’ said Mr. 
Blake. “ It’s an outrage. The boy that did it ought 
to be expelled. Who did it? Where did it start 
from ? ’ ’ 

44 I’ll see, Mr. Blake,” said one of the boys quickly 
running up the stairway and soon returning with an 
empty basket in his hand. 44 I found this on the top 
floor. It had a string tied to it and the string hung 
out of the window. It was somebody outside the 
building that pulled the string and probably tipped the 
ball out.” 

4 4 Go to your rooms, boys, ’ ’ said Mr. Blake. 4 4 W e’ll 
look into this later. ’ ’ 

4 4 What do you think of wickedness in the school 
now, Ward?” said Big Smith as they started to re- 
turn together. 

Ward made no reply. He was thinking of the 
words he had heard Tim Pickard speak to Jack, and 
wondered whether they did not have some connection 
with the disturbance which had just occurred. 

44 Hello, there!” said one of the boys. 44 Ward, 
look at your chum, will you ? What’s the matter with 
him?” 

Ward turned quickly and looking down saw Henry 
standing in the hall below. His hat had been crushed 


90 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


in, his clothing was all wet, and he himself was almost 
the picture of misery. 

“Henry Boyd! what’s happened to you?” said 
Ward in astonishment. 

“Never mind now, Ward,” said Henry quietly. 
“ Come up to the room and I’ll tell you all about it.” 

In a brief time they had entered their room, and 
Ward, after closing and locking the door, turned to 
listen to what Henry was saying to him. 


CHAPTER X 


BIG SMITH’S ASSERTION 

“ T’VE just had a little dose of the tender regard of 

X some of your East Hall friends,” said Henry as 
he laid aside his wet clothing. 

“My friends!” replied Ward. “I don’t know 
that I understand just what you refer to.” He had 
felt nothing but sympathy for Henry when he saw him 
in his plight, but here at the very beginning of his ex- 
planation he was virtually accusing him of having a 
share in his trouble, or at least so Ward considered it. 

“ I’d been up in Ned Butler’s room after the meet- 
ing,” continued Henry, “ and when I came out of his 
room and went down the stairs I stopped just a minute 
on the steps by East Hall, and before I knew it down 
came a bucketful of water, and I was drenched from 
head to foot.” 

Ward, who was feeling a little angry at his room- 
mate’s implication that his friends had been at the bot- 
tom of the trouble, smiled in spite of his efforts to ap- 
pear indifferent at Henry’s words, and made no reply. 

“And that wasn’t all of it, either,” said Henry. 
“As soon as I felt the water I dodged back into the hall 
and ran through it to the other door. But just as I 
came out on the steps there, down came another pailful, 
and if I had had any dry spots left before on me, every 

91 


92 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


one of them was hit this time. I was as wet as if I had 
been in the river. ’ ’ 

“I’m sorry for you, Henry,” said Ward laughing 
this time outright. “But what in the world did you 
want to go back for? You might have known that 
they would be waiting for you at each end of the 
Hall. Why didn’t you come straight on after you had 
started ? ’ ’ 

“ Oh yes, that’s all very fine now ! Why didn’t I 
go and have it out with the fellows who did such a 
mean trick, right then and there ? I wish I had.” 

“So do I,” said Ward. “It was a mean trick. 
There’s no mistake about that.” 

“You look as if you thought it was a mean trick ! ” 
said Henry angrily. “ It may be mighty funny to you, 
but it isn’t to me, I can assure you. I’m glad it wasn’t 
any friend of mine that did it.” 

“No, I don’t believe it was any friend of yours,” 
replied Ward. “And I don’t know what right you 
have to say it was a friend of mine either.” 

Ward, who did not try to put himself in his friend’s 
place, was thinking only of Henry’s charge now, and 
he was resenting it the more because he had a strong 
suspicion that after all he did know who had been the 
guilty ones. The words of Tim Pickard to Jack came 
back to him once more, and he w T as connecting them 
just now with Henry’s mishap as well as with the recent 
disturbance in West Hall. 

An interruption came just then as some one rapped 
on the door. “Come in!” called Ward, and Big 
Smith and Pond entered the room. 


BIG SMITH’S ASSERTION 


93 


“We thought we’d come in and see what the trouble 
with Henry was,” said Big Smith. “ I just caught a 
glimpse of him as he ran up the stairs, and I thought 
something was wrong.” 

“He got a ducking over in East Hall,” replied 
Ward. “ They caught him at each end of the hall.” 

“Yes,” said Henry ruefully, “and that isn’t the 
worst of it. My best suit of clothes is ruined. My 
father went without a winter overcoat to get me that 
suit, and now those fellows have gone and spoiled it. 
It may be fun for them, but it’s a different tune I sing.” 

“It’s a shame,” said Big Smith loudly. “It’s a 
shame. I’d report it to the doctor, I would.” 

“ What would you do, Pond ? ” inquired Henry. 

“ I hardly think I should do that,” replied Pond 
slowly. “It’s all fair enough to protect yourself of 
course. When a fellow comes up to Weston, he comes 
to get his money’s worth, as Dr. Gray said that morn- 
ing in chapel when school opened, and you’ve a perfect 
ground for complaint now ; but you’re not sure he 
could help you out, for you don’t know who did it, do 
you?” 

“No,” said Henry hesitatingly, “but I feel pretty 
sure about it though.” 

“ Of course you do ; but you can’t report suspicions. 
Besides, your clothes may not be so badly damaged as 
you think now. I should wait until to-morrow anyhow 
before I did anything. I don’t care the snap of my 
fingers about this nonsense the boys talk, about never 
letting on if you are abused. But after all, you may 
only make a bad matter worse. When they see you 


94 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


don’t make any fuss about it they may stop this non- 
sense.” 

“ It’s worse than nonsense,” said Henry hotly ; “ it’s 
a cowardly trick.” 

“ That’s so ! ” said Big Smith solemnly. “ I should 
report it at once. They might take up a collection in 
East Hall for you or get a new suit of clothes. Who 
knows ? ” 

“Yes, and they might bring over some of their old 
clothes too,” said Ward with a sneer. 

“ That’s so, I hadn’t thought of that,” said Big 
Smith, unmindful of Ward’s manner. “ It might be a 
privilege for those fellows to aid you. Most of the boys 
in East Hall have money, and if they heard of your 
loss they might be glad to make it good. ’ ’ 

“ Yes, and if he got more clothes than he wanted, he 
might divide up with some of the rest of us,” said 
Ward. “Now here’s Big Smith. He isn’t more’n 
three inches taller than you, Henry, and anything you 
didn’t care for, why you could turn it over to him. 
He wouldn’t need any label then. 

“A trifle too short 
And a shaving too lean, 

But a nice young man as ever was seen.” 

‘ ‘ I should be glad of anything Henry did not care 
for,” replied Big Smith. “ If I couldn’t use it, per- 
haps my younger brother George could.” 

“ I’m no swill barrel for the fellows to fire every- 
thing they don’t want into,” said Henry indignantly. 
“ I’m provoked; of course I am. It’s a mean, cowardly 


BIG SMITH'S ASSERTION 


95 


trick to ruin a fellow’s clothes as they have mine, and 
it means a lot of trouble for me, and for my father and 
mother. But I’m not going to whine about it. Pond’s 
got the right of it; I’ll wait till to-morrow and see 
what their condition is then. What can’t be cured 
must be endured, I suppose.” 

“ I hope it’ll come out all right, Henry,” said Pond 
as he arose from his chair. “ There goes the gong, and 
it’s time we were in bed. Good-night, boys ! ” 

“You’d better think of my suggestion, Henry,” 
said Big Smith as he left the room ; but Henry made no 
reply and abruptly closed the door. 

The next morning there were curious glances cast at 
Henry by a few of the East Hall boys when he came 
into the chapel, but as he apparently was not conscious 
of them, for he was trying hard to ignore all such at- 
tentions, there was little satisfaction to be gained. 

Ward keenly watched the boys whom he suspected 
to be guilty, and was satisfied that he knew who had 
poured the water upon his room-mate ; but he was still 
angry at the words of Henry and the implied charge 
that his friends had been the guilty ones. 

In a measure, Ward knew that Henry was right, and 
perhaps the very knowledge of that fact increased his 
feeling of irritation at his chum. Already they were 
drifting apart, and although they had been warm friends 
from the time of their earliest boyhood, he felt that 
something was beginning to grow up between them that 
even the long friendship might not be able to over- 
balance. 

“Very well,” thought Ward a little bitterly, 


96 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


‘ ‘ Henry thinks Speckle and Tim are my friends, does 
he ? All right, friends they are then, if he will have it 
so. He’s made a great fuss over a little ducking.” 

He was strengthened in his thought by the fact that 
an examination that morning had shown that Henry 
had not suffered the loss he had feared ; a pressing would 
make his clothing as good as before. 

“ There’s no use, Ward,” said Jack, as he and Ward 
together passed out of the Latin room that morning. 
“ I thought last night when I heard Ned Butler talk 
that I would throw away my ponies and try for a while 
to do square work. But just see me this morning. I 
didn’t use a translation nor ask a fellow for help, and 
what was the consequence ? A dead flunk and a lecture 
a yard long from Mr. Crane.” 

“You’ve been making a huge trial of it, Speck,” 
said Ward with a laugh. “ One recitation and then 
it’s all over. You’ve got grit, haven’t you? ” 

“I’ve got grit, but I didn’t have the lesson. I 
noticed the valedic didn’t cover himself with glory 
either, this morning. What’s the trouble? ” 

“ Oh, I was thinking a bit about my chum, I 
guess,” replied Ward coloring a little, for he had failed 
in the recitation himself. 

“ What’s the trouble with your chum ? ’ ’ Jack looked 
at him keenly as he spoke. 

“ Oh, some of your brave fellows over in East Hall 
ruined a suit of clothes for him last night, that’s all. 
I say, Speck, that was a mean trick. You fellows that 
have plenty of money don’t know what it means for 
him and his folks too. ’ ’ 


BIG SMITHES ASSERTION 


97 


“ Pshaw ! Henry needed a little wetting down. 
It’ll do him good. Every fellow has to take his share. 
It’s like eating a peck of dirt before you die. We all 
have to come to it. I have had to swallow my share, 
and I didn’t squeal either.” 

4 ‘ It’s all right for you. You can get another suit if 
you want it.” 

“Nay verily, that I cannot. I couldn’t even get 
the uniform, if the nine didn’t furnish it. But it’s a 
great advantage for Henry to have a little attention, 
and he and his father both will be thankful for it some 
day. They will, as sure as preaching.” 

‘ ‘ How do you make that out ? ’ ’ 

“ Oh, his father sent him to Weston to get all the 
good he could here, didn’t he? Well, don’t you sup- 
pose the fellows can teach him some things as well as 
the teachers ? I tell you some of the best lessons I’ve 
learned, the fellows have taught me.” 

“ I don’t doubt it. And did you use a pony then ? ’ ’ 

“Not much I didn’t. But no joking, Ward, I 
never saw a fellow catch it yet in school if he didn’t 
deserve it.” 

The conversation ended as the boys passed into the 
Greek room, but Ward was thinking more of Jack’s 
words than he was of the lesson. Somehow he was 
coming to believe that Henry had not shown a very 
good spirit when what he chose to call a harmless trick 
was played upon him. He had forgotten all about the 
meanness and damage now, and was even coming to 
pity himself somewhat for being compelled to room 
with such a fellow. 

G 


98 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


He had little conversation with his room-mate that 
day, and late in the afternoon they went together to 
Doctor Gray’s to take supper with his family as they 
had promised to do. They were surprised to see Big 
Smith and his brother there when they entered the 
room, a discovery over which Ward was not at all 
pleased. 

However he soon forgot his irritation in the pleasure 
he found in his conversation with Mrs. Gray. She 
was a motherly woman and having no children of her 
own, in a measure had adopted the boys of the school, 
as being in a special sense hers. The invitations to 
her home were highly prized by all the students, and 
even the “Tangs” never could find anything to say 
against her. 

“Well, Ward,” said the doctor when they all were 
seated at the table, ‘ ‘ I suppose you are pretty well 
settled now. Have you been homesick any ? ’ ’ 

“No — that is — yes — a little — not much,” replied 
Ward, laughing in spite of himself at his own con- 
fession. 

“That’s only natural, Ward,” said Mrs. Gray 
kindly. “I think when one first comes here, espe- 
cially if he comes from a very different part of the 
country, he is apt to find the change a little marked. 
I know I did, and I found the mountains somewhat de- 
pressing at first; but now I don’t think I should want 
to live away from them.” 

“ That’s just it,” replied Ward. “ Sometimes they 
seem to shut me out of the world, and then just be- 
cause I can’t get out, I suppose I want to all the more. 


BIG SMITHES ASSERTION 


99 


But I like the school and all the fellows — I mean the 
students — very much.” 

“I’m glad of that. It doesn’t take long to make 
friends here. ’ ’ 

4 4 1 think it does, ’ ’ spoke up Big Smith . 4 4 1 haven’t 

made many friends yet. ’ ’ 

44 I’m sorry to hear that,” said Mrs. Gray; 44 but 
you will in time, I am sure. ’ ’ 

44 No, I don’t think I shall, and I don’t know that 
I want to,” replied Big Smith, and Ward noticed that 
the sepulchral tones had returned. 

44 I’m sure you will,” said Mrs. Gray cheerily. 
44 Perhaps you are a trifle lonely now.” 

44 No, I am not,” replied Big Smith. 44 But the 
boys are an ungodly lot. Only last night Henry was 
coming out of East Hall and somebody threw two pails 
of water upon him. ’ ’ 

Both Henry and W ard blushed and looked aghast at 
Smith ; but not at all embarrassed he continued, 4 4 And 
all those East Hall boys are bad, I know they are. 
And the one who threw the water on Henry is the worst 
of all. It was Ned Butler who poured the water on 
him.” 


CHAPTER XI 


WORD FROM THE BURRS 



ED BUTLER ! ” exclaimed Dr. Gray in sur- 


-Li prise. “Oh no, I’m sure you must be mis- 
taken.” 

Neither Ward nor Henry could speak before Big 
Smith said very emphatically, “Yes it was, doctor, 
I’m sure it was. When a boy talks as he did in the 
meeting last night, there’s something wrong with him. 
And he never has been in the least friendly with the 
West Hall boys. He only says ‘ Good -morning ’ to me 
when he meets me. I’m sure he doesn’t like any of 


j > 


us, 


“What did Ned say last night in the meeting?” 
said the doctor, quietly ignoring all the other remarks 
of Big Smith. 

“ Oh, he said it was such hard work to do right. 
That he didn’t have much of rest and peace in his re- 
ligion. Now I know that when a fellow talks in that 
way there’s something wrong with him, isn’t there, 
doctor ? ’ ’ 

“No, I think not,” replied Dr. Gray. There was 
an amused expression upon his face as well as a troubled 
one. “Ned Butler is one of the most trusty fellows 
in all the school ; I never have known him to do a 
dishonest or dishonorable thing yet, and I’m certain he 


100 


WORD FROM THE BURRS 


101 


could not have been the one who played this trick upon 
Henry. ’ ’ 

‘ 1 So am I, doctor, ’ ’ said Henry, who had managed 
to find his voice at last. “ Why, I’d just come from his 
room and left him there. He simply couldn’t have 
been the one. And no great harm was done, anyway. 
I was troubled at first, because I thought my clothes 
were ruined, but there wasn’t much damage done after 
all.” 

“I’m sorry this spirit has broken out in East Hall; 
but you can rest assured it will be checked at once. 
Mr. Crane is not a man with whom the boys can trifle 
in the least. We’ll say no more about it for the pres- 
ent,” said the doctor quietly. 

The boys lingered after supper until the bell rang for 
the study hour. Mrs. Gray talked with them of their 
work and life, showed them views of the foreign places 
that she had visited, and completely won their hearts. 
“ Now, boys,” she said as they shook hands with her 
before they went, ‘ ‘ I want you to remember that our 
home belongs to you too. Whenever you feel in the 
least homesick or lonesome, come and see us. We shall 
always be glad to have you come, and Saturday even- 
ings we hold free for the students. You’ll be sure to 
come, won’t you? ” 

“Thank you,” said Ward, “I know I shall,” and 
the other boys also expressed their gratitude for her 
kind invitation, and the pleasure she had given them. 

“ The doctor’s wrong,” said Big Smith as they left 
the house together. “ I know it was Ned Butler who 
poured the water on you, Henry. He thinks be- 


102 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


cause he has a room over in East Hall that he can look 
down upon us W est Hall boys. The idea that all the 
religion he’s got is just enough to make him try to do 
right because it’s right to do right! I must have a 
talk with him. I feel it’s my duty to do that much.” 

“ You’ve done enough to-night,” said Henry angrily. 
“What business had you to talk as you did to the 
doctor, I’d like to know ! The only comfort is the 
doctor didn’t believe a word you said.” 

‘ ‘ I only said what it was my duty to say. I was 
taking your part, Henry.” 

“Well, wait next time till you are asked to,” said 
Henry. He was becoming so thoroughly angry now 
that he could not trust himself to say more. 

“That’s always the way,” grumbled Big Smith. 
“ But then it’s the way of the righteous, and I don’t 
suppose I ought to complain. Wounded in the house 
of his friends. ” 

Henry made no response, as he and Ward hastened 
up to their room. They had had little to say to each 
other throughout the evening, and each felt that some- 
how the gulf between them was becoming wider. W ard 
had known that the words of Big Smith concerning Ned 
Butler were too ridiculous to warrant any attention, 
but in spite of his admiration for him he had not felt 
as annoyed at the charge as he knew he ought. Perhaps 
the feeling that Ned and Henry were becoming such 
warm friends had something to do with it, and the con- 
sciousness that his own friends were not to be classed 
with Ned for a moment, tended to strengthen his irrita- 
tion. And somehow it all combined to drive the impul- 


WORD FROM THE BURRS 


103 


sive Ward a little farther away from his room-mate, and 
to make him feel more strongly drawn to Jack. 

On the following day there was great excitement in 
the school when it was known that a letter had been 
received from the Burrs, asking that the annual fall 
game should be played a week from the following 
Wednesday afternoon on the grounds of the Burrs. 

Tim Pickard called the nine together, and as Ward, 
Henry, and Pond were now considered as sure members, 
they were summoned with the others. An eager and 
exciting conference followed, and the possibilities of 
success and failure were discussed again and again. 
When the meeting broke up, it was decided that the 
challenge of the Burrs should be accepted, and Jack, 
who was the secretary, was instructed to send the letter 
announcing the fact. 

That same evening, after study hours were over, Jack 
and Tim Pickard came over to West Hall to solicit 
subscriptions for the expenses of the nine. Both Ward 
and Henry subscribed more than they felt they could 
afford, when they realized the efforts being made at home 
in their behalf ; but neither had quite the courage to 
decline. As new boys they stood somewhat in awe of 
the school sentiment, and as for Jack and Tim who un- 
hesitatingly urged all to give, it is only just to say that 
they had no appreciation of what the lack of money 
might mean to others. 

“ Here’s Pond,” said Jack as the boy he named en- 
tered the room. “ He’ll put his name down for five 
dollars, I know he will.” 

Ward looked keenly at Pond while Jack was speak- 


104 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


ing, for he recalled what Big Smith had said concern- 
ing the way in which he had been sent to the school. 

“ I’m sorry, boys,” said Pond quietly; 4 ‘but I 
can’t subscribe. The truth is I haven’t any money ex- 
cept what is given me, and I don’t feel that I have a 
right to use that in this way. I only wish I could,” 
he added eagerly. “No fellow in the school would 
be more glad to do it than I, but I can’t. I think of 
a little woman and what she’s doing at this very time 
probably, and I just can’t do it.” 

“ Who is she,” said Jack. 

“ She’s my mother. I could tell you what she’s do- 
ing for me, but I don’t care to, and I’ve two younger 
brothers who want to come up to Weston by and by. 
Some of you who have fathers, don’t know what it means 
to make such a struggle as she is making. I’ve never 
thought very much about it till I came up here. Some- 
times I’ve thought I ought not to play on the nine, just 
because I can’t go in as some of you do.” 

“Nonsense,” said Tim Pickard quickly, who to do 
him justice was not, with all his faults, an ungenerous 
boy. “ We’re glad you’ve told us just the way it is, 
and of course we don’t want you to do this ; all we want 
is for you to put up a good game when we meet the 
Burrs. There isn’t a fellow here that doesn’t think 
more of you for what you’ve said about your mother. 
And if the little Ponds are half as good as the big 
Pond, we’ll be mighty glad to have ’em come up to 
Weston, won’t we, fellows?” 

All the boys heartily agreed to Tim’s words and 
Ward thought he saw a suspicious moisture in Pond’s 


WORD FROM THE BURRS 


105 


eyes, though he too joined in the laugh which followed 
Tim’s lame joke. 

“ Here’s B. Smith and L. Smith,” said Jack, as the 
two brothers entered the room. “Now, Big Smith, 
what shall I put you down for ? ” 

“ What are you talking about ? ” replied Big Smith, 
looking curiously from one to another in the group of 
boys. 

“ Oh, we’re taking up a collection ; something that 
belongs to your line,” and Ward laughed as he spoke. 

“Yes, we’re raising the money for the expenses of 
the nine. What’ll you give? ” added Jack. 

“Not a cent, not a cent, sir. I don’t believe in 
such things. The idea of your asking me for money. 
Money isn’t anything I’m concerned about at all.” 

“ I thought you were,” said Ward. 

“Not in that way. It ought to be enough for this 
school that it has such fellows as Pond and me here. 
I hope you’ll never mention the subject to me again.” 

“ All right, Smith, all right,” said Tim with a laugh. 
“We’ve got enough as it is. Mr. Crane and the 
doctor always come down handsomely. They believe 
in the nine you know, and if we win, we’ll get a lot 
more. We’ve made Blake open up too. He tried to 
smile, but he looked as if he had pain all the time 
he was doing it though. He’s a gem, Blake is.” 

“Probably he couldn’t do much,” said Ward. 
He was thinking of the sounds he had heard in Mr. 
Blake’s room several nights before, and of what the 
doctor had said as to his trying to provide for others as 
well as for himself. 


106 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“Nonsense!” replied Tim boisterously. “He 
could do it just as well as I could or as Big Smith here, 
though he hadn’t any such principles to overcome as 
this fellow,” and he slapped Big Smith on the back. 

“You’ll be measured for your suits to-morrow, you 
three,” said Jack, as he and Tim left the room to- 
gether. 

“ That’s what I call an imposition,” said Big Smith 
when they had gone. “The idea of his asking me 
for money.” 

“It was tough,” and Ward laughed sarcastically. 
“ He’ll remember next time, I’m sure.” 

The intervening days were busy ones. The pros- 
pect of the approaching game was the absorbing topic 
in all the school, and with Ward it even absorbed 
time which ought to have been given to his lessons. 
Henry worked steadily on, although he was as in- 
terested as W ard ; but work with him was first, and he 
held steadily to the line he had marked out for him- 
self. 

Ward already was dropping back in his class work, 
and the promise of being valedictorian of the class, 
which Jack had laughingly held out before him 
offered no attractions now. He spent most of his spare 
time in East Hall, and never tired of talking of the 
approaching game. 

The eventful day at last arrived. Doctor Gray 
spoke of the game in the course of his remarks in 
the chapel, and the boys heartily applauded the hope 
of success he expressed. 

Two of the teachers, Mr. Crane and Mr. Blake, were 


WORD FROM THE BURRS 


107 


to go with the boys, ‘ ‘ To see that they did not miss the 
train after the game,” as Jack expressed it, although 
this time arrangements had been made to carry the 
boys by carriages. All the available teams in Weston 
were hired and even Dorr field contributed its quota. 
A large wagon, drawn by four horses, was to carry the 
nine, and there were seats in it for two besides the 
players. 

“What! Big Smith, you going?” said Ward, as 
his classmate climbed into the wagon and took one of 
the two spare seats which the nine had. 

“ Yes,” replied Big Smith, “ I feel it to be my duty 
to go. You know some of the fellows are pretty tough, 
and I thought the doctor would be glad to have me go 
for the sake of my influence. I shall do all in my 
power to keep everything straight.” 

“ It’s very kind of you,” replied Ward. “ I hope 
the doctor will appreciate your generosity. ’ ’ 

He said no more, but turned to look at the busy 
scene about him. About fifty of the boys were to 
accompany the nine, and the dozen or more carriages 
which had been engaged were already waiting for them. 
The nine were soon ready, and what a bright appear- 
ance they made in their new uniforms ! Their eager 
faces and stalwart forms were an inspiration. 

“We’re all ready, I think, Tom,” said Tim as he 
threw two bundles of bats into the great wagon. 
“Now, off you go. Give ’em a cheer, fellows,” he 
added, turning and facing the crowd of boys who were 
to be left behind. 

A rousing cheer followed his words, and amid the 


108 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


calls and wishes for good luck the procession started. 
How Ward did enjoy that ride. There was a sense of 
his own importance as member of the nine, and added 
to that was the exhilaration of a ride through a new 
and beautiful country on a late September day. The 
sides of the mountains were covered with the varied and 
gorgeous tints of the autumn foliage. There was all 
the enthusiasm of young life too within and about him, 
and not even his feeling of jealousy at Ned Butler 
and Henry, who were seated together and apparently 
enjoying themselves to the utmost, could break in upon 
it now. 

“I hope we’ll feel as well when we comeback,” 
said Ward in the course of the ride. 

“ Never you fear. We’ve got ’em this time sure,” 
replied Jack. “ But here we are.” 

Ward looked quietly about him and at once forgot 
his fears. The buildings of the Burr Academy could 
be seen, and out on the ball field a crowd of people was 
waiting for them. There were carriages filled with 
girls, for Burr Academy was co-educational in its 
methods, and the grand stand was packed with people. 
Far down the lines they extended, and the sight was 
one to stir not only the feelings of Ward, but of all the 
approaching Weston boys. 

“Give ’em a cheer, fellows,” called Tim as they 
drove upon the grounds ; and the Weston yell rose 
sharp and clear, the new boys joining in it with all the 
strength of their lungs. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE GAME WITH THE BURRS 

A S Ward leaped lightly out of the wagon, he felt 
that never before had he had a share in such a 
. stirring experience. He was conscious that the eyes of 
all the assembly were turned upon the little group of 
players who quickly gathered about Tim Pickard the 
captain of the nine, and the feeling of his own im- 
portance was considerably increased. It was the first 
time he had ever played in a game of such importance 
as this promised to be, and while naturally somewhat 
excited and nervous, he did not show it by his manner, 
and he was determined to do his best. 

“Well, Ward,” said Ned Butler cheerily, “do 
you feel tired after the ride ? ’ ’ 

“Not a bit,” replied Ward. “Pm just a little 
stiff ; but a few minutes’ practice will limber me up all 
right, I think. Do you feel excited ? ’ ’ 

“Not much. You see this is my sixth game with 
the Burrs, and I’m becoming something of a veteran. 
Still I’m very anxious about the game. We’re stronger 
than we were in the spring, and a good deal will depend 
upon the new material the Burrs have.” 

“ That’s the captain of the Burrs,” said Jack, as a 
stalwart young fellow quickly approached the group. 
“He’s their catcher.” 


109 


110 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“Hello, Shackford,” said Tim advancing to meet 
the rival captain. “ Glad to see you.” 

“ So am I to see you. We’ve a crowd out to meet 
you, you see.” 

“So I noticed. The road seemed to be full of 
wagons as we drove over.” 

“ They’re all expecting a good game and I hope we 
sha’n’t disappoint them. Your men can take the field 
now and practise awhile, while you and I are talking 
over the arrangements. Come over by the dressing 
room.” 

Tim turned and directed the boys to take their places 
in the field while he withdrew for an interview with 
Shackford. The Weston boys ran quickly out upon 
the field, a wild cheer from the crowd following them, 
and soon took the positions they were to play in the 
game. Ward was in left field, Henry upon first base, 
Pond at third base, while Jack took his customary posi- 
tion as short stop, and Ned Butler stood near the home 
plate. 

Two of the Burr boys volunteered to bat flies for the 
visitors, and in a moment the boys were scurrying 
about the field chasing and throwing the balls in every 
direction. 

Ward’s feelings were not soothed when he saw a large 
coach, its top filled with girls, drive upon the grounds 
and take its position behind the line near to him in left 
field. 

The girls all had little flags of the colors of the Burr 
Academy, knots of ribbon were fastened to their 
dresses, and a long streamer waved out behind the coach 


THE GAME WITH THE BURRS 


111 


as they approached. “ They’ll be watching me all the 
time,” thought Ward, and though his heart began to 
beat a little more rapidly, to all outward appearance 
he was as calm and collected as ever. 

Throwing had always been Ward’s strongest point, 
and there was no one on the nine, unless it was Tim 
Pickard, who could throw the ball as swift and far as 
he ; but his nervousness in the preliminary practice 
made him somewhat wild, and when Jack called out 
to him, “Steady there, Ward; you don’t have to 
throw the ball clear to Weston,” he laughed and re- 
plied that he would try to remember the caution. 

“ Keep your places, fellows,” called Tim returning 
from his interview with Shackford. “The Burrs are 
to be first at the bat.” 

The time for beginning the game had arrived. The 
balls which had been used in practice were thrown in, 
and every player settled himself to the work before 
him. 

A shout from the crowd went up as Shackford grasped 
his bat and started toward the plate. All the Burr 
boys united in the school yell, and the girls upon the 
coach near Ward waved their flags. The confusion 
abated as the umpire tossed the new ball to Tim and 
said, “ Play ! ” The silence that followed was intense 
and Ward stepped nervously about in his position in 
left field. Tim stepped into the pitcher’s box and 
drawing back his great left arm sent the ball with all 
his strength directly over the plate. 

‘ « One strike ! ’ ’ called the umpire, and a sigh seemed 
to rise from the crowd. 


112 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“Two strikes!” he called again, when once more 
the ball came whizzing in. 

“ Three strikes ! Out ! ” said the umpire as Shack- 
ford made a desperate effort to hit the third ball, which 
Tim sent in with increased speed. 

As Shackford turned toward the players’ bench and 
threw down his club in disgust, a shout went up from 
the Weston contingent, and Ward could see that both 
Mr. Crane and Mr. Blake were joining in it, as excited 
as any of the boys. 

“That’s the way, Tim. Keep it up,” said Jack, 
and then turning toward Ward he added, “ He’s their 
heaviest batter. Tim struck him out with the first 
three balls.” 

“Keep quiet, fellows,” called Tim, who seemed to 
be perfectly cool and collected, although Ward thought 
he could see that he was greatly elated over his success. 

“Look out for this fellow, Ward,” said Jack in a 
low voice as the second member of the Burr nine took 
his bat and advanced to the plate. 

“ One strike ! ” called the umpire. 

“ One ball, two balls,” followed, and then the bats- 
man struck the next ball and sent it skipping over the 
ground directly into Jack’s territory. Ward started 
for it as if it were intended for him, but halted quickly 
as he saw Jack stop the ball and then dropping it for a 
moment send it to Henry just too late to catch the runner. 

It was the turn of the Burr boys to shout now, and 
shout they did long and loud. The runner had gained 
his base and was dancing about trying to induce the 
pitcher to throw the ball. 


THE GAME WITH THE BURRS 


113 


Tim slowly and deliberately took his position again, 
and faced the next batter. 4 4 One strike, ’ ’ called the 
umpire. 4 4 What does he always say, 4 one strike, ’ for ? ” 
W ard heard one of the girls on the coach say, but he 
was too much interested in the game to listen to what 
followed. 

The next ball Tim sent in seemed to suit the batter 
exactly, and hitting it with all his strength he sent a 
liner almost directly into Pond’s hands. Before the 
runner at first base could recover himself, the nimble 
Pond had sent the ball swiftly across the diamond and 
Henry had caught him a full yard from the base. Both 
were out and the side was out, and it was all done so 
quickly that a brief time passed before the crowd seemed 
to be aware of what had taken place. But it w 7 as only 
a brief time, for then such a shout went up from the 
Weston boys as had not before been heard on the 
grounds. 

44 That’s the way to do it ! ” said Jack turning a 
somersault on the ground as Ward came in from the 
field. 44 Now if we can keep this up ! ” 

Ward made no reply, as he was to be the third batter 
and he was already looking over the collection of bats 
trying one after another, and seeking the one which he 
thought would be best adapted to him. 

He looked up as another cheer rose from the Weston 
boys as Ned Butler with his bat approached the plate. 
He had found the one he wanted now and leaning back 
upon it he watched Ned with breathless interest. 

44 One strike ! ” called the umpire, and Ward smiled 
as he looked down at the coach on which the girl was 
H 


114 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


seated who wanted to know why the umpire called 
“ strikes ” when the ball wasn’t hit at all. 

‘ ‘ Two strikes ! ’ ’ called the umpire. 

“ I hope Ned Butler isn’t going to strike out ! ” said 
Jack who was standing by Ward’s side. 

“That doesn’t look much like it!” replied Ward 
quickly, as Ned caught the next ball on the end of his 
bat and sent it far out into the field. 

The shout of delight which went up from the Weston 
boys was quickly hushed as the nimble centre fielder of 
the Burrs caught the ball which settled directly into his 
hands, and an answering shout went up from the Burrs. 

“Now, Henry, do your duty,” said Jack as Henry 
walked past him to the plate. W ard watched his chum 
eagerly. He had never seen that look upon his face 
without knowing that something was likely to be done. 

“ Hi ! Yi ! Yi ! ” he shouted a moment later as 
Henry drove the ball over the head of the short stop. 

“ Go on ! Go on ! ” called Tim who was near the 
first base, as Henry started down toward the second 
base. A moment of suspense followed, a cloud of dust 
arose as Henry threw himself upon the ground and slid 
face foremost toward the coveted bag, and then such a 
shout of enthusiasm went up from the Weston boys as 
made all the previous attempts seem feeble, when the 
umpire called “ Safe at second.” 

“What’s the matter with Ward Hill? He’s all 
right,” greeted Ward as his turn came ; and a trifle 
pale, but with set teeth, he stood and faced the pitcher 
of the Burrs. 

This pitcher was a little fellow, but “wonderfully 


THE GAME WITH THE BURRS 


115 


tricky,” so Jack had declared. He had been a con- 
stant puzzle to the Weston boys and had been so long 
on the nine that he knew most of the peculiarities of 
each of the opposing players. Now a ball came in so 
slowly that it seemed scarcely to move, and then would 
come one that seemed almost to hum as it cut the air. 
He looked curiously at Ward as if were studying him, 
and then sent in a slow ball that W ard made a desperate 
effort to hit, but failed. A laugh from the Burrs 
greeted his efforts and Ward could see that the pitcher 
himself was smiling. 

“ I’ll show him now,” thought Ward, but before he 
had fairly drawn back his bat a swiftly thrown ball had 
struck him between the shoulders. Without hesitating 
a moment he started toward first base. 

“Here, hold on!” called the pitcher. “He got 
right in the way of that ball.” 

“Not much he didn’t,” replied Tim hotly, and a 
warm discussion between the captains followed. Ward 
seated himself on the base to await the result, and be- 
gan to talk with the first baseman. 

“ Hold the bag, Ward ! It’s all right,” called Tim, 
as taking his bat he faced the pitcher for his turn. 
Whether it was his irritation or not, I cannot say, but 
when the first slow ball was sent in, Tim struck it with 
all his strength and sent it sailing far out over the 
right fielder’s head. 

In a moment it seemed as if pandemonium were let 
loose. The Weston boys stood up in their seats and 
shouted and waved their flags frantically, as if they 
would aid the runners by their efforts. 


116 


WARD HILL AT WLSTOtf 


The confusion increased as Henry crossed the home 
plate, and Ward started from third base. Jack was 
running along the line beside him and calling, “Go it, 
Ward. Go on ! Go on ! You’ll make it ! ” and just 
before the ball reached the plate, Ward crossed it and 
the run was scored. 

“ What’s the matter with Ward ? ” “ Three cheers 
for Tim Pickard ! ” “ Another one for Henry ! ” were 
among the shouts and calls that followed from the ex- 
cited spectators, and it was several minutes before the 
game could be resumed, with Tim still on third base. 
Unfortunately the next two men went out and when 
the Weston boys took the field again they had only 
scored the two runs. 

And now the game went on with increasing excite- 
ment on the part of all. The Burrs scored two in the 
next inning, and their supporters cheered lustily. Then 
the Westons made one and the Burrs two and then the 
Westons two. 

In the fourth inning another dispute arose, this time 
the Westons being the aggressors. 

“ That’s right ; kick again,” muttered the driver of 
the coach near Ward. 

‘ ‘ Pardon me, but how many kicks do they have in 
a game ? ’ ’ said one of the girls to the driver, who 
looked at her in blank amazement a moment, and then 
impolitely burst into a loud laugh. 

Even W ard was so tickled over her question that he 
could only find relief in turning somersaults and walk- 
ing on his hands. 

At last came the ninth inning. “It’s a tie,” said 


THE GAME WITH THE BURRS 


117 


Tim, as his boys took the field. “Now, fellows, be 
! careful. Follow my calls every time. ,, 

What was the trouble ? The first batter gained his 
| base on balls. W as Tim becoming ‘ ‘ rattled ’ ’ ? The 
next man struck out. ‘ ‘ Ah, that was better, ’ ’ and a 
I sigh of relief arose from the Weston supporters. But, 
j alas, the next batter made a hit and soon there was a 
! man on third and another on second, and only one out ! 

“ And there comes Shackford to bat,” groaned Jack, 
j turning about and speaking to Ward, “ Lie back for 
him, Ward, he’s the heaviest hitter they’ve got.” 

Ward moved back as Jack and Tim indicated, and 
i watched Shackford. He had a feeling of irritation to- 
ward the girls on that coach now, for with their con- 
stant treble, “ Burr ! Burr ! Burr ! ” and the waving 
of their flags, he felt that he could do nothing if the 
ball should come into his territory. 

Suddenly he heard Tim call, “ Look out, Wa-a-r-d ! ” 
Shackford had hit the ball, and high in the air it looked 
as if it were going far out over his head. 

Ward looked at it just an instant and then turned 
and ran with the ball, as if life itself depended upon his 
speed. He was dimly conscious that the crowd was 
shouting wildly, but not minding that or the redoubled 
shrill, “ Burr ! Burr ! Burr ! ” of the girls, he sped on. 
He must catch that ball ! What would the fellows 
think now, if he should muff it ? The very honor of 
the school depended upon him. And shutting his teeth 
together and breathing hard, he turned just as the ball 
came down and settled directly into his hands, and was 
held. 


118 


WAED HILL AT WESTON 


‘‘Home! Ward! Home!” shouted Tim, and 
quickly recovering himself Ward turned and threw the 
ball toward Ned Butler, who was standing on the plate. 
Swiftly and almost as straight as if thrown from a gun, 
the ball sped on. But the runner had started from 
third base, and it did not seem possible that it could 
overtake him before the run would be scored. No one 
was shouting now. The spectators were all standing 
and eagerly watching the outcome. Even the treble, 
“ Burr ! Burr ! Burr ! ” had ceased. Ward was stand- 
ing in the position in which he had thrown the ball, 
and it almost seemed as if his heart had ceased to beat, 
so tense was the strain. 

On and on sped the ball, and on and on ran the 
runner. Ned Butler with outstretched hands was 
waiting for it, and just before the runner touched the 
plate he had the ball and fell upon the player. 

“ Out,” called the umpire and then the suspense was 
ended. Shouts and calls came from the Weston boys 
and Jack threw his arms around Ward’s neck as he 
came in from the field, trying to appear calm. 

“Look there, will you, Ward?” said Jack. The 
Weston contingent had rushed down from their seats, 
and forming in line were approaching to the measure 
of their united cries, “Ward! Ward! Ward Hill! 
Ward ! Ward ! Ward Hill ! ” 

“What’s the matter with Ward?” called one. 
“ He’s all right ! ” came from the united crowd, and 
before Ward could fully realize what had happened, he 
was picked up by the excited boys and borne by them 
in triumph on their shoulders to the players’ bench. 


CHAPTER XIII 


AFTER THE GAME 

T HE game was not yet ended however, and as the 
Weston boys took their turn at the bat in the 
closing half of the ninth inning, the strained feelings 
of the spectators became more quiet. The excitement 
was intense but somewhat subdued now, each play being 
watched with eager interest, and the shouts breaking 
forth only when the result of each movement was seen. 

The players on each side were as excited as the 
crowd, and perhaps that fact accounted in part for the 
result which followed ; for try as they would the 
Weston boys could not get a man beyond second base. 
The inning closed with the score still a tie, seven runs 
having been scored by each side. 

As Tim Pickard started for the field again, followed 
by his men, the umpire called him back and said, “ Mr. 
Pickard, I’m going to call the game. It’s almost dark 
now and by the time you come in to bat again, the ball 
can’t be seen.” 

Secretly Tim was rejoiced at the umpire’s words, for 
while in one way the darkness would aid his side, in 
another it might help his opponents as well, and he 
was content to let the game rest as it was. But it 
would never do to give up quietly, Tim thought, so he 
entered a vigorous protest against the decision. 


119 


120 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


In a moment the umpire was surrounded by a crowd 
of boys protesting earnestly, and the assembly also 
soon left their seats and gathered about the disputants. 

“Oh, nevermind, Tim,” said Ned Butler quietly, 
“let it go. It’s as fair for one side as it is for the 
other. Let it go.” 

“I suppose I’ll have to,” replied Tim, “but it’s 
just being robbed of the game and that’s all there is 
about it.” 

He felt in duty bound to keep up the appearance of 
protesting to the end, but apparently persuaded by Ned 
he turned to the umpire, who had stood quietly in the 
midst of the assembly saying nothing since his first 
quiet declaration, and said : “ Very well. I feel as if 
we’ve been robbed of the game, but will abide by your 
decision of course.” 

“I’m sorry you feel in that way, Mr. Pickard,” 
said the umpire quietly, “but I don’t see that I can 
do anything else in justice to both sides.” 

As soon as the decision was known, the spectators 
began to leave the grounds, the students of each school 
vieing with the others in the shouting and cheers for 
their favorite players. 

‘ ‘ W ard, you did well, ’ ’ said Big Smith rushing up 
to him and shaking his hand cordially. “I’ve yelled 
till I’m so hoarse I can scarcely speak.” 

“Your voice sounds so,” and Ward laughed. 
“ Perhaps it’ll strengthen your lung power after all.” 

“ That’s so,” said Big Smith. “ I hadn’t thought 
of that. But I never thought I would make such a 
spectacle of myself. Why I shouted and shouted till 


AFTER THE GAME 


121 


it seemed to me my voice would break. Still it may 
do me good as you say. That was a great catch and 
throw of yours, Ward. It was the best thing in the 
game.” 

Others gathered about him and added their words of 
congratulation and praise. “You saved the game for 
i us, Ward,” said Tim Pickard. 

“That’s what he did,” added Jack. “We’ll fix 
it up for you when we get back to Weston.” 

The words of praise were sweet to Ward, and the 
impulsive boy had great difficulty in trying to conceal 
his feeling of elation. All the boys of the school were 
eager to do him honor, and Mr. Crane and Mr. Blake 
added their congratulatory words, all of which was ex- 
ceedingly gratifying to Ward. It was his first match 
game, and he felt that he had won a high place in the 
regard of his fellows. 

“They’re going to give us a spread before we go 
home,” said Jack. “We’ve had it before. The diet 
of the Burrs is highly conducive to brain work, I can 
tell you.” 

“It seems to have made pretty fair ball players of 
them too,” said Ward. “What is it they feed you 
on?” 

“When the game’s on Saturday, we usually have 
codfish balls, baked beans, and brown bread. I don’t 
just know what they’ll give us on Wednesdays. Per- 
haps it’ll be veal, who knows ? That’ll remind you of 
the hash house and home, anyway.” 

Shackford here approached the boys and, as soon as 
Tim could gather his nine together, led them to the 


122 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


dormitory of the boys, and they were taken by dif- 
ferent students to their rooms, where they washed and 
prepared themselves for the supper which was to come. 

The bell was soon rung, and Shackford led the visit- 
ing nine to a table which had been reserved for them 
in the large dining room. The boys and girls of the 
school came filing in and took their places at the vari- 
ous tables, casting many shy glances of interest at the 
table where the visitors were seated. 

It was a new experience to Ward, and one that he 
thoroughly enjoyed. He was well satisfied with his 
work in the game, and as he was aware at times that 
the looks cast at him from different parts of the dining 
room indicated that he was the topic of conversation, 
his elation increased, although he was doing his best to 
appear unmindful of it all. 

Honest success is a source of honest pride, and if 
Ward was proud of his success that day, there were 
few who felt like blaming him. Henry too had played 
a good game and Pond came in for his share of the 
praise. 

“Your new men have greatly strengthened your 
nine,” said Shackford, who as host was seated at the 
table of the visitors. “ I confess I’m half afraid of 
the result when we come over to Weston in the spring 
for the return game.” 

“We shall do our best to give you a warm recep- 
tion,” said Tim. 

“ I don’t doubt that, ”* responded Shackford. “ If 
you can play a tie game on our grounds, what will you 
do with us when you get us on yours ? ’ ’ 


AFTEE THE GAME 


123 


“We’ll have to wait and see, ’ ’ replied Tim. ‘ ‘ W e’ll 
do our best, I can assure you.” 

Ward was seated next to Jack with whom he was 
fast becoming a close friend, and was watching the room 
with a keen interest. It was all so different from the 
life at Weston. There the boys did not all eat in the 
same building, and there were no girls in the school. 

“I rather think I like it better at Weston,” he 
said to Jack. 

“ Like it better? Well, I rather guess ! Girls are 
all right, but I shouldn’t want them tagging around 
after the fellows in school time.” 

“They don’t look as if they’d do very much tag- 
ging,” Ward said laughingly. “Do they come over 
when the return game is played ? ’ ’ 

“Do they? Well, you’ll think they do. They’re 
very much in evidence too.” 

The signal for rising was here given, and all the 
students stood up and waited for the visitors to pass out 
next behind the teachers. Ward felt somewhat abashed 
as he left the room, feeling that the eyes of all were 
upon him, but Jack and Tim were apparently all un- 
conscious of the interest they were exciting. 

“We’d better start for Weston at once, I think,” 
said Mr. Crane who with Mr. Blake had been seated 
at the teachers’ table. 

“All right,” responded Tim. “We’ll go right up 
to the stable and order the teams. ’ ’ 

The boys shook hands with the teachers of the Burr 
Academy, thanking them for their hospitality, and 
started quickly for the stables. 


124 WARD HILL AT WESTON 

When they arrived they found all the carriages 
ready except the great wagon in which the players 
were to ride, and the men at once brought out the 
horses which were to draw that. 

“ I say, Ward,” said Big Smith, “did they give 
you a supper ? ’ ’ 

“They did that,” replied Ward. “ Where’ d you 
get yours ? ’ ’ 

“ I haven’t had any. I think it’s a shame. They 
might have known we didn’t have any money. It’s 
too bad to have to ride back to Weston like this.” 

‘ ‘ Better take up a collection, ’ ’ said W ard leaping 
into the wagon, quickly followed by Big Smith. 

All was now ready, and the procession drove up in 
front of the academy to receive the teachers and 
students who were waiting there. Wagon after wagon 
was filled and started off amid the cheers of the assem- 
bled students, and soon all were gone except the one in 
which the nine was to go, and Doctor Gray’s, in which 
Mr. Blake and one of the boys were to ride. 

“Mr. Blake isn't quite ready. He’ll be out in 
about five minutes. He’s waiting for some books one 
of the teachers is going to lend him,” said Shackford. 

A chorus of groans and calls greeted this announce- 
ment, but there was so much going on about him that 
Ward was in no hurry to depart. The boys and girls 
filled the great piazza of the building and there was 
singing and laughing to be heard on every side. 

“ Poor Big Smith hasn’t had anything to eat,” said 
Ward to Jack at the same time looking back at Big 
Smith who sat directly behind him. 


AFTER THE GAME 


125 


“That so? Poor fellow ! ” said Jack. “What 
have you been doing with yourself while we’ve been 
having the feast of reason and flow of soul, mostly 
flow ? ” 

“Oh, I’ve been walking about the village and 
looking at the scenery. It’s beautiful in the moon- 
light,” replied Big Smith. 

“Yes, and it’s mighty filling too. If you want to 
fatten up, Big Smith, let me commend to you the scenery 
around here. You want to look out or you can’t 
swallow all the moonshine.” 

A shout of laughter greeted Jack’s words, but Big 
Smith made no reply. 

“I say, Tim,” said Jack leaning forward and 
whispering something Ward could not hear in Tim 
Pickard’s ear. 

“ That’s the idea,” said Tim with a laugh, leaping 
out from the front seat to the ground. 

“ I’m with you,” responded Jack, and before Ward 
knew what was occurring Jack too had left his seat and 
joined Tim. 

“ Where are you going, fellows? ” called Ward. 

“We’ll be back in a minute,” responded Jack, and 
Ward gave no further heed to them as he was watching 
the group of students on the piazza. 

In a brief time Jack climbed back into the wagon 
and then in a low whisper he said to Ward : “ Take 
a look at the doctor’s rig, will you ? ” 

Ward looked back and in a moment burst into a 
loud laugh. There stood the horse of Dr. Gray 
hitched to the buggy and standing with his head directly 


126 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


against the dashboard. The boys had simply reversed 
his position and the poor beast was looking about as if 
he were trying to understand what it all meant. 

The other boys rose in their seats, and as soon as the 
strange sight was seen they all broke out into shrieks of 
laughter. In a moment the students on the piazza came 
running down to see what it all meant and they too 
joined in the laughter, and the confusion increased each 
moment. 

“ Walk up, ladies and gentlemen,” called Jack stand- 
ing up on the seat. ‘ ‘ Behold Barnum’s latest curiosity. 
No longer are you compelled to offer twenty -five cents — 
a quarter of a dollar, ladies and gentlemen — to behold 
the latest marvel in the natural world ! Here, without 
money, you can see this most wonderful discovery of 
modern times — a horse with his head where his tail 
ought to be ! ’ ’ 

Renewed laughter followed Jack’s oratorical effort, 
which was interrupted by the declaration of Big Smith : 
“That’s all wrong, boys. It’s wrong. I’m going to 
fix it before Mr. Blake comes out.” 

Groans followed Big Smith as he leaped out of the 
wagon, but the laughter was resumed when Jack re- 
sumed his speech : “ Yes, ladies and gentlemen, and we 
will even allow you the privilege of seeing his keeper,” 
and he pointed to Big Smith, who was vainly trying to un- 
fasten the harness, “ another curiosity, almost equal to 
a horse with his head where his tail ought to be. A 
native of the wilds of Borneo, caught in his native den. 
A monster of such frightful mien as to be hated needs 
but to be seen. Walk up, ladies and gentlemen, before 


AFTER THE GAME 


127 


the show starts for Weston Academy, where the speci- 
mens are to be deposited.” 

“ I’m going to help him,” said Henry, leaping out of 
the wagon, unmindful of the laughter which was re- 
newed at Jack’s second speech. 

“ There’s Mr. Blake, Tom,” said Tim quickly to the 
driver; “start on, we’re ready now,” and the driver 
at once picked up the reins and the great wagon started 
amid the shouts of laughter, leaving Henry and Big 
Smith behind. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE RECEPTION 

T HE boys had not left the grounds of the academy 
before Ned Butler said in a low voice : “Tim, 
you’re not going to leave those fellows behind are you ? ” 
“Yes,” replied Tim sharply; “why not? They 
gave up their seats of their own free will. They’re 
having a good time. Just hear that,” he added as 
another burst of loud laughter arose from the piazza. 
“ They’ll have lots of help.” 

“ But they can’t ride back with Mr. Blake. The 
doctor’s buggy will hold but two, and if Henry 
and Big Smith are left it will make four,” said Ned. 

“Oh, hold on, Tim,” interposed Pond; “you’re 
carrying a joke almost too far. Wait for the boys. 
It’ll only make trouble if you don’t.” 

“ Can’t help that,” replied Tim ; “ I didn’t ask them 
to get out of the wagon. They did it because they 
wanted to. I’m not to blame, am I, if they choose to 
give up their seats with us and run their chances of 
having to walk back to W eston ? ’ ’ 

Tim was speaking in the surly tone he used whenever 
he was angry, and all the boys became interested at 
once, as they knew that trouble was likely to arise. 

“ Tom,” said Ned Butler to the driver, “ hold up 
your horses. Two of the boys have been left behind. 
128 


THE RECEPTION 


129 


I’ll run back and get them. Come on, Pond,” and 
without waiting -for the driver to heed his words, Ned 
leaped out of the wagon, quickly followed by Pond. 

“The pious sneaks,” muttered Tim. “ Don’t wait 
for them, Tom ” 

“I think I’ll have to wait, Mr. Tim,” replied the 
driver. ‘ ‘ It would never do for me to go back with four 
of the young gentlemen left behind. What would 
Dr. Gray say ? ’ ’ 

“ He’s right, Tim,” said Jack. “We won’t have to 
wait long.” 

Tim made no reply and in a few moments the four 
boys came running back to the wagon and quickly 
climbed into their seats once more. 

“ I suppose we can start now, can’t we? ” said Tim 
sneeringly. 

“Yes, we’re all right; go on, Tom,” replied Ned 
cheerily. He showed no signs of anger, and in a brief 
time the good humor of all the boys was restored, that 
is, of all except Tim, who remained silent during the 
most of the homeward ride. Ned was so thoroughly 
liked and kept his good -nature so easily, that few of the 
boys could long retain a grudge against him, and in this 
case the most of them felt that he had only done what 
was right, after all. 

There is in most boys an innate sense of justice and 
there is nothing they admire more than a quiet courage 
such as Ned had just displayed. Ward was troubled, 
however, for he knew that Tim Pickard would not soon 
forget the incident ; and while he knew that Ned would 
not be the one to suffer from his attentions, he was fear- 
i 


130 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


ful that trouble might be in store for Henry. And 
yet he was somewhat angry with his room-mate. Why 
should he interfere in a harmless prank of the boys ? 
Surely it was not necessary for him to rush in as he had 
done. And he would only draw upon himself the 
anger of the fellows, and he too would be compelled to 
share in his chum’s disgrace. 

He became more and more irritated at Henry, 
although he did not stop to consider that by ‘ ‘ the fel- 
lows ” he meant Tim Pickard, Jack Hobart, and a few 
of their boon companions. 

‘ * Boys, ’ ’ said Big Smith solemnly, breaking in upon 
the silence which followed the return of the boys, “I 
feel ashamed of Weston Academy to-night. That was 
an outrageous trick. The idea of reversing Mr. 
Blake’s horse ! I wonder how you thought he was 
going to return. Either his horse would have to walk 
backwards, or if he went ahead he would push the 
buggy backward. I don’t see what you did it for.” 

“ To give you a chance to boot-lick,” sneered Tim. 

“ Well I’m going to report it to Dr. Gray as soon as 
we get back.” 

A groan arose from all the boys at the threat, but 
not in the least frightened, Big Smith in still more 
solemn tones said: “Yes I’m going to report it to 
Dr. Gray. I feel it to be my duty to do so.” 

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Ned good-humoredly. 
“ It’s all over now and no harm done. Let’s give ’em 
another cheer, ’ ’ he added as the sound of a shout from 
the now distant school came faintly to their ears. 

In a moment the boys had united in the Weston yell, 


THE RECEPTION 


131 


and as soon as it was over, Ned said : “ Jack, is it true 
that you made arrangements for a return game on our 
grounds this fall ? I thought I heard something of the 
kind.” 

“Yes,” said Jack quickly. “As this game was a 
tie, Shackford himself suggested that we play another 
one this fall, and not wait till spring for the return 
game.” 

“Good!” said Ned; “and when is it to be 
played ? ” 

“ Oh, we’ll have to have it within ten days or two 
weeks or the snow will be on us. ’ ’ 

* ‘ Snow ? ’ ’ said W ard ; ‘ ‘ snow in October ? ’ ’ 

“ Sometimes. Snow’s the best crop Weston raises.” 
“ Except boys,” and Ned laughed. 

“Yes, snow’s here most of the year,” said Tim 
joining in the conversation. “It’s as eternal as the 
grin on Big Smith’s face.” 

A few of the boys laughed at the ill-natured remark. 
“ What gives you that grin ? ” said Tim again. “ Is 
it a part of your stock in trade ? Is that the way 
you’re going to do when you’re invited to see all the 
old ladies and little infants ? ” 

“ I feel it to be my duty,” said Big Smith soberly, 
‘ ‘ to cultivate a pleasing manner. A smile may be an 
instrument of tremendous power. Why should I not 
show my desire to please to all around ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, that’s so,” said Jack striving to imitate the 
very tones of Big Smith. “ Now I’ve noticed that the 
bull dog Tim owns, and which Professor Mike keeps 
for him for the small consideration of fifty cents a week, 


132 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


board and washing not included, almost always has a 
grin on his face when I come around. I don’t know 
whether it’s because he thinks he loves me so much he 
wants to eat me, as my mother used to say to me when 
I was a little fellow, or because he’s jealous. I have 
conscientious scruples about feeding Tim’s pet, though. 
I feel it to be my duty — not to,” and Jack spoke in 
exact imitation of Big Smith. 

A shout of laughter followed his words, even Ned 
and Henry being compelled to join in it, so ridiculous 
did the drawling tone sound when used by Jack. 

“Oh, but you have fed him, Jack,” and Ned 
laughed. “ I’ve heard about it.” 

“Not much to mention,” replied Jack. “Only 
the sleeves of two coats and the seat of one pair of 
trousers. I felt it to be my duty to quit then. I was 
afraid such a diet would spoil his natural disposition, 
and I wouldn’t miss that grin for nine hundred worlds, 
no not for nine hundred and ten.” 

Good feeling was now somewhat restored, although 
Tim still took but little part in the conversation, and 
when he did speak it was in such a surly manner that 
the boys made no reply. Few could resist the influence 
of Ned Butler, and Jack’s bantering remarks were 
always taken in good part. 

They gave the school cheer before every farmhouse 
they passed, and when the inmates rushed to the door, 
as they did in almost every instance, to learn the mean- 
ing of such strange calls, the boys would break into a 
song, and the country people would say, “ Oh, it’s the 
Weston boys.” 


THE RECEPTION 


133 


“You see we’re known throughout the land,” 
Jack would say. “Now give them another, fellows,” 
and a song or shout would invariably follow. 

“Look there, will you, fellows!” said Ned, when 
at last the great wagon turned into Weston. “The 
news has arrived.” 

The boys saw a huge bonfire on the campus and 
about it were groups of boys leaping and running, look- 
ing weird -like in the shifting light. But as soon as the 
shout of the nine was heard, a rush was made toward 
them, and in a moment they were surrounded by a 
! crowd of eager, shouting boys. 

“ What’s that they’re doing, Jack? ” said Ward, as 
he noticed that the four horses were quickly unhitched, 
and a long heavy rope was tied to the wagon. 

“Oh, the fellows are going to draw us up to the 
grounds. That’s the regular thing, you know ; only 
they haven’t had a chance very lately to try it on. 
Hello, they’ve got the band too ! ” 

The notes of the Weston band could now be heard as 
it approached. This was a band famous in all that 
region, and the ten or twelve men who composed it 
could now be seen approaching, and each player was 
evidently trying to blow his loudest. 

“That’s the way with these fellows,” said Jack 
laughingly. “ They don’t any of them think they are 
playing ; they are not doing their duty,” and Jack 
drawled out the words and looked at Big Smith as he 
spoke, “ unless they blow with all the wind there is in 
them. That’s music in Weston. I wish they’d come 
into Mr. Blake’s class in physics and learn the difference 


134 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


there is supposed to be between a musical sound and 
noise. Go it ; that’s right ! ” he added as one of the 
instruments shrieked out far above its fellows. 

“ What’s that they are playing? ” said Ned. ' 

“Why, it’s ‘See, the conquering hero comes.’ 
Don’t you know that?” replied Pond joining in the 
laugh that greeted the words. 

There was now a scene of confusion, and yet it was 
one which all the nine heartily enjoyed. The boys of 
the school, or as many of them as possible, seized the 
long rope and began to pull. The band had fallen into 
line in advance of them, and the noisy procession started 
up the street. 

“This is too much glory for one day,” said Ned. 
“ Just think of it ! To tie the Burrs, to be drawn in 
a chariot into Weston, and then to have a brass band 
too. Ah, this is too much. Even Alexander couldn’t 
have wanted more than this.” 

“No, Aleck wasn’t in the same class with us,” was 
Jack’s merry reply. 

On up over the hill, along through the wide village 
street, all unmindful of the huge bonfire which a few of 
the boys had been left to watch, moved the procession. 
Shouts and songs mingled with the notes of the band, 
which now had changed its tune to ‘ ‘ Hail to the chief, ’ ’ 
and the entire experience was one into which Ward 
was entering with heart and soul. The school yell v r as 
constantly heard, and the boys in the wagon were 
standing up and joining in the confusion. 

“Where are they going? What are they up to 
now? ” asked Ward as they halted near East Hall. 


THE RECEPTION 


135 


“Mr. Crane must be back, and they are going to 
get a speech from him, I guess,” replied Jack, pausing 
just long enough to reply to the question. 

Mr. Crane responded to the repeated calls which were 
made for him to appear, and spoke a few words of con- 
gratulation, and then the procession started on again, 
cheering as it went. Other teachers were called upon 
for speeches, and at last the entire body halted before 
the home of Dr. Gray. 

The doctor came forth in response to the call, and 
standing on the steps of the piazza, addressed the boys. 
He expressed his interest and pride, that after two 
years of successive defeats they had at last succeeded in 
tying, if not winning, a game on the grounds of the 
Burrs. “And, young gentlemen,” continued the doc- 
tor, “ much as I rejoice in the success of the nine, far 
deeper is my satisfaction that Mr. Crane has brought 
back the word that each one of you conducted himself 
as a gentleman should. To-night I am proud of you. 
I want the fact that a boy is a student here to impress 
upon him that he is and is to be true as steel and is to 
be trusted at home or abroad. I want the Weston 
name to mean that every graduate is manly and up- 
right. I am more proud than I can tell you to-night, 
both at the report of your success in the game, and of 
your bearing and conduct among the students of the 
Burr Academy. In recognition of all this I want in 
behalf of the teachers to give a supper to the nine next 
Saturday evening at seven o’clock in the dining hall.” 

“ Three cheers for the doctor ! ’ ’ called Ned Butler, 
as the principal turned to enter the house. The cheers 


136 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


were given with a will and the doctor bowed in recogni- 
tion to the boys, and then the crowd began to disperse. 
‘ ‘ To the bonfire, ’ ’ was the cry now, and the nine 
leaped out of the wagon to join their fellows. 

“ Where’s Big Smith going ? ” said Ward quickly, as 
he saw him leave the others and go up on the piazza. 

“ He’s going to tell the doctor what happened to his 
horse,” replied Jack. “It’s his duty, I suppose. 
Never mind, Ward ; come on now down to the fire,” 
and soon both boys were in the midst of the noisy crowd 
upon the campus. 


CHAPTER XV 


A WORD FROM MR. CRANE 

T HE chapel bell rang out the hour when the boys 
had to report in their rooms, and as a conse- 
quence the bonfire was not long continued ; but the 
noise and smoke had combined to make Ward’s voice 
so husky that when he entered West Hall he could 
hardly speak above a hoarse whisper. 

Henry was already in the room, and the exciting 
events of the day were sufficient to cause the boys to 
forget for the time being the feeling that had been 
growing up between them, and they conversed with 
something of their old-time freedom. 

The game with the Burrs, the prank they had played 
upon the doctor’s horse and over which Henry now 
laughed good-naturedly, the “ grand -stand play” of 
Ward’s, as Jack had termed it, the ride back to Weston, 
and the reception there, were all topics of conversation 
long after the lights were out and Mr. Blake had 
rapped upon their door to satisfy himself that both 
boys had returned to their room. 

‘‘Well, Big Smith,” said Ward as he overtook his 
classmate next morning on his way to the chapel, 
“ did you have a good time at the doctor’s last night ? ” 
Big Smith scowled slightly as he replied : “Oh, yes, 
I suppose you would call it so. Still I never expect to 

137 


138 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


have many good times as you call them ; I haven’t any 
right to look for them. I’m here to do my duty and 
I don’t look for any other reward.” 

“ There go the four strokes,” said Ward quickly ag 
the chapel bell began to give forth its sharp sounds 
indicative that it was time for all honest boys to be in 
their seats. “We’ll have to hurry now,” and both 
boys broke into a run. 

“String out, Ward! Str-ing-o-u-t ! ” came as a 
sharp call from the direction of East Hall ; and Ward 
saw Jack running at full speed, as usual striving to 
adjust his collar on the way. 

“I’m not going to wait for that fellow a minute,” 
said Big Smith increasing his speed and soon entering 
the chapel. 

Ward began to delay, hoping that Jack would come 
up before Mr. Blake should close the door ; but before 
he came the teacher had turned, the door was closed, 
and both of the boys were barred out. 

“ Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now,” said Jack 
dolefully. “I’m sorry I kept you out too, Ward; 
but the fact is, I only waked up about three minutes 
ago.” 

“ Haven’t you had any breakfast ? ” 

* ‘ One small cracker, a corresponding bite of cheese, 
and a mouthful of Weston water. I keep these on 
hand in case of an emergency. But I say, Ward, 
come on with me down to Ma Perrins’. We’ll have 
time enough for me to get a bite of breakfast before 
the Latin class. Come on.” 

“ All right. We might as well be hung for a sheep 


A WORD FROM MR. CRANE 


139 


as a lamb,” replied Ward as he hastened along by the 
side of his friend to the home of “ Ma ” Perrins. This 
was just under the hill beneath East Hall, and the boys 
soon entered and Ward took his place at the table with 
Jack. 

“ I kept some breakfast for you, Mr. Hobart,” said 
Mrs. Perrins pleasantly. “I thought you might be a 
little late the morning after the game.” 

“Thank you,” replied Jack as he began at once 
upon the breakfast before him. Ward glanced about 
the room while he waited for Jack. How different it 
all was from the dining hall of the academy ! There 
was an air of comfort here, and the table was spread 
with a breakfast that did not very much resemble the 
one he had had that morning. 

He declined the invitation of Jack to join him, but 
the feeling of dissatisfaction which of late had been 
creeping over him, deepened. It was not that he was 
envious of Jack, — no one could feel angry at him long, 
— but his own plain manner of life had never seemed 
so distasteful to him before. 

“ Got your Cicero, Ward ? ” inquired Jack, stopping 
a moment in the midst of his occupation. 

“No,” replied Ward guiltily. “ I haven’t a word 
of it. I’ve got to trust to luck this morning not to be 
called up. ’ ’ He thought how hard Henry had worked 
on his lessons before the nine had gone to Greenville on 
the preceding day, and his feeling of irritation in- 
creased. 

“You needn’t trust to that,” said Jack. “Mr. 
Crane will be sure to have you up on the hardest place 


140 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


just because of your grand-stand play yesterday. He 
likes baseball, but he very foolishly says he doesn’t 
ever want it to interfere with lessons. I suppose he 
feels it his duty to haul the players up.” 

Ward laughed, for Jack had drawn out his last 
sentence in exact imitation of Big Smith, and then 
said : “It’s all up with me, if that’s the case. I’ve 
trusted to luck.” 

“Here, take this,” said Jack, drawing a piece of 
paper from his vest pocket and tossing it to Ward. 

* ‘ Look it over while 1 finish my breakfast. ’ ’ 

Ward unfolded the paper and saw that it was a 
translation of the morning lesson, evidently a page cut 
from some book. His cheeks flushed slightly and he 
did not catch the amused expression upon Jack’s face, 
who was watching him keenly over the coffee cup he 
held in his hand. Ward hesitated a moment and then 
opened his book and began hurriedly to compare the 
Latin with the translation. 

“ Thank you, Ma,” said Jack soon rising from the 
table. “ You’ve saved me this time ; I’ll never forget 
you, never.” 

Mrs. Perrins smiled benignantly as the boys left the 
house, Ward meanwhile handing the translation back 
to Jack without saying a word. 

“ Come on, Ward,” said Jack. “ The chapel’s just 
out. We’re in time for Latin, anyway. Hello, what’s 
all the trouble ? ” he added quickly, as he saw by the 
actions of the boys as they came pouring out of the 
chapel that something was wrong. 

The students were walking in groups and talking in 


A WORD FROM MR. CRANE 


141 


loud tones, some of them shaking their heads and gestic- 
ulating with their hands as they frequently stopped and 
talked excitedly together. There were angry looks too, 
and it was at once apparent that Jack’s surmise was 
| correct. 

“ We’re in for it now,” said Tim Pickard catching 
sight of Jack and Ward, and running toward them. 
“ We’ve got shut off in great shape.” 

“What’s all the trouble about? ” said Jack. 

‘ ‘ Oh the doctor read us a lecture this morning. He 
told us first how proud he was of the game we played 
yesterday, and then he mentioned Ward by name and 
praised his great play. Of course all the fellows looked 
over to smile on little W ard, but lo and behold he was 
not. So you lost that.” 

“Too bad, Ward, too bad ! ” said Jack soothingly 
patting Ward on the back. “But go on with your 
story. ’ ’ 

“Well, then he got around to the fixing of his 
horse. He said it was disrespectful to Mr. Blake and 
could not go unpunished ; and then he informed us that 
no return game would be played this fall. I’d like to 
know who went and told him of it. It was either Mr. 
Blake or Henry Boyd, and I rather think it was Henry. ’ ’ 

“ No, it wasn’t Henry,” said Ward quickly. 

“ Well, who was it then ? ’ ’ 

“ It was Big Smith,” said Jack, “and there he is 
now,” and he pointed to his classmate who was just 
coming out of the chapel. 

A shout of anger and derision greeted his approach 
and all the boys turned and looked at him. But Big 


142 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Smith moved calmly on, apparently unmindful of the 
feelings of the others, his face still retaining the look of 
self-approbation which it had borne since he had en- 
tered the school. 

“ We’ll fix him,” said Tim, as Jack and Ward left 
him to enter the Latin room. 

They took their seats with the others, and Mr. Crane 
unmindful of the angry glances of which Big Smith 
was the recipient, at once called the class to order and 
began the recitation. And now Ward’s thoughts were 
withdrawn from the excitement of the morning to the 
work before him. He did not know a word of the lesson 
and was in an agony of fear lest he should be called 
upon. Although his work had been steadily slipping 
back for several days, he had not yet made a complete 
failure in any recitation, and his pride was yet strong. 
Henry was called upon and did well. Another and 
another followed, Ward breathing a little more freely 
after each name was called as it brought the recitation 
nearer to an end, and lessened his chance of being asked 
to recite. 

The hour was about half over and he was beginning 
to breathe more easily when he was startled by the quiet 
words of Mr. Crane, “ Hill, you may translate.” 

Ward hesitated a moment. Should he rise and try, 
or simply say that he was unprepared ? Just then Jack 
thrust into his hand a piece of paper and Ward instantly 
knew what it was. It was the translation he had seen 
while Jack was at breakfast. 

His decision was instantly made and he arose from 
his chair. Mr. Crane apparently was not looking at 


A WORD FROM MR. CRANE 


143 


him, and with a sly movement Ward slipped the printed 
page into his book. His face flushed, and the knowl- 
edge that the boys behind him could see what he had 
done, made his heart beat rapidly. 

“Begin, Hill, if you please,” said Mr. Crane, and 
Ward slowly began to read from the translation. For 
several lines he read on without interruption. His 
voice was trembling and the words seemed to dance be- 
fore him, but he stumbled on until Mr. Crane said 
quietly : “ That will do, Hill. You have either made 
a mistake in translating the wrong place, or you have 
made a mistake in the place of the translation. Please 
bring me that piece of paper in your book.” 

Poor Ward in an agony of shame advanced, and while 
a suppressed titter ran around the class, he laid the 
paper on the desk and returned to his seat. 

“Hobart, you may read,” said Mr. Crane quietly. 

With a comical expression of despair on his face 
Jack arose. He had not the slightest idea where the 
place was, or that he could translate it if he knew. 
There were however two or three places in the lesson 
he thought he knew, and beginning he translated the 
first of these as rapidly as he could. 

“That’s not the place, Hobart,” said Mr. Crane 
quietly. 

“Oh, I know now,” replied Jack, beginning at 
another of the portions he thought he knew. 

“That’s not the place either,” interrupted the 
teacher. 

“ Oh, I know now,” said Jack glibly, beginning at 
the third and last of the portions he knew. 


144 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“No, that’s not it,” said Mr. Crane. “You 
haven’t it yet.” 

“ Well, that’s what my book says,” replied Jack in 
desperation. 

“ I don’t want the book, I want you.” 

“Well, Mr. Crane, I think you’ve got me,” and 
Jack sat down as unconcerned as if a failure were a 
matter of every-day occurrence. A suppressed laugh 
followed Jack’s declaration, and even Mr. Crane was 
smiling, as he glanced up and restored order. 

“Now G. Smith you try it.” 

Big Smith arose and with a benignant smile, and in 
his deepest tones, translated. He was all unmindful 
of the sneers upon the faces of his classmates, and read 
on and on, as if he were only “ striving to do his duty. ” 

A word of approbation from Mr. Crane when Big 
Smith took his seat increased the smile upon his face, 
and thoroughly satisfied with himself he beamed upon 
all in the room as if he pitied their inferiority. 

“ I want to see you in my room in East Hall this 
evening, Hill,” said Mr. Crane when the hour was 
over and the boys were leaving the room. 

“ Very well,” replied Ward, “ I will come.” 

W ard was keenly stung by his disgrace and dreaded 
the meeting with Mr. Crane for he thought he knew 
what he would say ; but striving to appear unmindful 
of his failure he joined the group of boys standing out- 
side the door. 

“Ward, the doctor’s given up the dinner for the 
nine,” said Jack as he approached. 

“Why?” 


A WORD FROM MR. CRANE 


145 


“ Oh, it’s all a part of Big Smith’s duty, I suppose. ” 
“ Never mind Big Smith now,” said Tim. “ We’ll 
attend to him later on. I’ll give the nine a dinner 
myself. They sha’n’t all be losers for his meanness.” 
“Good for you, Tim,” said Jack. “When and 
I where is the feast to be ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ll fix that. I don’t know whether I can 
I get it up before mountain day or not ? ’ ’ 

“ Mountain day ? What’s that?” inquired Ward. 
“Oh, that’s a day we have off. It’s next Wednes- 
day, if it’s pleasant. Instead of having a half-holiday 
we have all day. The fellows, that is the most of 
them, go up on the top of the Hump — that’s the highest 
i hill around here — and stay all night. We’ll have the 
biggest time in your life, Ward.” 

“ I think I shall go,” said Big Smith benignantly 
as he joined the group. “ It ought to be a great help 
to the soul to see the sunrise from the Hump.” 

‘ ‘ Of course it is, ’ ’ said Tim laughing and slapping 
Big Smith on the back. “We want you to go with 
us. You’re a new man and we want to do all we can 
for you,” and Tim winked meaningly at the other 
boys, most of whom at once knew what he meant. 


K 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE INTERVIEW 

“T WANTED you to come and see me,” said Mr. 

-L Crane that evening when he had welcomed 
Ward in his rooms in East Hall, “ because I felt that 
it was time that something should be done. The task 
is not a pleasant one, and you can readily see that the 
motive which influenced me was not one that most con- 
cerned myself.” 

Ward made no reply. The remembrance of his dis- 
grace in the Latin room was too keen to permit him to 
feel at ease in the presence of Mr. Crane, whom he 
both liked and respected. He was sitting uncomfort- 
ably in the chair to which he had been motioned upon 
his entrance, but he was not looking at the teacher. 
He was watching one spot in the carpet and seldom 
lifted his eyes, although the words he heard were plainly 
spoken in Mr. Crane’s most cordial tones. 

“The life here is very different from that to which 
you have been accustomed, is it not? ” said Mr. Crane. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Ward, glancing up a moment as 
he spoke. 

‘ * I thought so ; and for that very reason it presents 
new problems and new dangers to an impulsive boy like 
you. You already have made friends, I see. May I 
ask who they are ? ’ ’ 

146 


THE INTERVIEW 


147 


“ Oh, I like all the boys, hut I suppose I’ve been 
around most with Jack Hobart and Tim Pickard, 
although I’ve seen considerable of Pond, and Big 
Smith, and some others.” 

Mr. Crane smiled as Ward rapidly mentioned the 
names by which the boys were known among their 
fellows, and then said soberly : “Well, Hill, I didn’t 
ask you to come here and listen to any gossip about the 
boys, but you know that Hobart and Pickard come 
from wealthy homes, and the life they have been ac- 
customed to is far different from yours. ’ ’ 

“ Then you don’t think I ought to go with them ? ” 
inquired Ward quickly. 

“ I do not say that. What I mean is that the con- 
tact with boys who have had such surroundings as they 
have had, sometimes presents special temptations to 
others. Not that I think they would intentionally lead 
you into evil, at least I hope not, but there is often 
a feeling that such boys are the leaders. Sometimes 
their wealth, sometimes their easy-going ways and views 
of life, cause others to be led away almost unconsciously. 
May I ask whether you attend the school prayer meet- 
ings or not ? ’ ’ 

“Yes — that is, not always. I’ve been once,” said 
Ward in desperation. “ But then you see, Mr. Crane, 
Big Smith and some others of the boys always preach 
to us there. Somehow they act as if they felt that they 
must reach out and pat the rest of us on the head.” 

“I know, I know,” said Mr. Crane quickly, and 
Ward thought he detected an amused expression on the 
teacher’s face as he spoke; “but they furnish but a 


148 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


small portion of the meeting, after all. There are some 
of the boys who avoid cant and who could help you, I 
am sure.” 

“ Yes, sir ; there are Ned Butler and Pond. They’re 
both good fellows.” 

“ They are noble boys ; there is no doubt about that. 
However I don’t care to urge the matter. I only 
thought it would be a help to you. Somehow it’s so 
much more easy to do wrong than to do right, that 
every safeguard one can get makes it the better for him. 
But, Hill, your class-work has been dropping lower 
and lower of late. Why is that ? ’ ’ 

“I suppose it’s because I haven’t studied. But, 
Mr. Crane, I never used a translation in class before 
to-day. I never did, honestly.” 

“ I am sure of that, and I hope you never will again. 
We will say no more about that just now,” said Mr. 
Crane quietly. “ But tell me why you haven’t stud- 
ied.” 

“I don’t know. I just haven’t, and I can’t give 
any excuse ; I’m ashamed of myself.” 

“ I’m glad to hear you say that. I want to tell you 
frankly, Hill, that I don’t think there are any boys in 
your class who can do better work than you, if you 
will try. That is why I am talking to you. If you 
were doing your best I should say nothing but words 
of praise. You owe it to yourself, to your father and 
mother, to the school, and to some one else, not to waste 
your best self as you are certainly doing now.” 

At the words of Mr. Crane, Ward’s eyes became soft 
and almost filled with tears. He was thinking of his 


THE INTERVIEW 


149 


home, and the vision arose before him of his father and 
mother, and what they were sacrificing to enable him to 
study at Weston. Surely he did owe them something, 
and the determination to do better came quickly into 
his mind. “ But you mentioned some one besides my- 
self, the school, and my father and mother, Mr. Crane, 
to whom I owed it to do better. I don’t know that I 
understand you. Do you mean Dr. Gray? ” 

“ Listen, Hill, and I will tell you a story that I have 
i never told to any one before.” Ward glanced quickly 
at Mr. Crane. The teacher was not looking at him, 
and seemed for the time almost unconscious that any 
one was with him in the room ; his face had an ex- 
pression Ward had never seen there before, and his 
eyes were partially closed. He felt a strange feeling of 
awe as Mr. Crane went on almost as if he were talking 
i to himself. 

‘ ‘ About twenty years ago there came a lad of about 
your age here to school, Hill. He was an impulsive 
fellow, easily swayed and yet a little bitter with him- 
self, and not feeling that the world was using him just 
right. His father and mother had both died the pre- 
ceding year. He was left without a near relative in all 
the land, and he had no money with which to keep him- 
self. It was only through the kindness of Dr. Gray, 
who was himself then only a young man, that he 
could come here at all. 

‘ ‘ The boy learned easily and took to his books. I 
think I may fairly say that he was popular with his 
mates, and was not disliked by the teachers. But 
there were times when his heart was hard. He would 


150 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


see some of the other fellows whose fathers, or mothers, 
or brothers, or sisters would come up to visit them, and 
then his own loneliness would come over him like a 
cloud. Then he would see others among the boys who 
took life so easily. They did not study much, they 
were in most of the school scrapes, and seemed to be 
having the very best kind of a time, and the boy would 
be seized with a wild impulse to join them. Why should 
he dig and gripd when others seemed to have such a good 
time? Then he would neglect his work and try to 
enter into the scrapes the others indulged in ; but he 
could not be content. He had a conscience, and it 
troubled him. He tried hard to deaden its voice, but 
it would give him no peace. And then he would go 
back again in sheer desperation to his studies and would 
work harder than before at them. But he was not 
happy even then. His lack of money made him 
bitter. He felt as if no one cared much whether he 
did well or ill. 

‘ ‘ He had been here about a year, and although his 
work was uneven, he had a good standing, and in a 
way was liked and respected in the school. But he 
had made few warm friends. When he was with the 
more fortunate boys he felt the difference most bitterly. 
When he was with those who were known as the good 
boys, his soul drew back at times. They seemed to him 
to be professional and filled with ‘ cant. ’ 

“ I don’t know what would have become of him if, 
at about that time, he had not been introduced to a 
young man who at once became his greatest helper. 
He was a young man, only a little past thirty, and 


THE INTERVIEW 


151 


had known all about poverty and hard work. He had 
known too w T hat it meant to have his best friends turn 
their backs upon him and to be misunderstood by all. 
But he never lost heart. He just lived to help others. 
No one was so bitter that he could not make his heart 
grow softer by his own gracious smile. He seemed to 
understand all about how every fellow felt. Those 
who were discouraged, or had fallen into bad ways, 
seemed to appeal to him the most. And he was strong 
too, the strongest men I ever knew. I never knew 
whether he was an athlete or not, but he was so strong 
that the little things which moved others never seemed 
to touch him in the least. He never gave up, but he 
kept steadily on till the end came, for he died, Hill, 
when it seemed as if his work had only begun. But 
his death was not the hardest thing for him to bear. I 
think he felt much worse about the fact that those for 
whom he had done the most seemed to forget all about 
him when his trouble came. But he never flinched. 
He just kept right on till the end came. 

“ When he was gone, and it was too late, his friends, 
— for he had looked upon them as friends all the time, 
although they had forsaken him — began to see what it 
was he had done. He was a teacher, Ward, and the 
best teacher I had ever known. And he had been all 
the time teaching these friends how to live. He never 
told them why evil was in the world, but he did tell 
them how to meet it. He did not explain a great 
many things which I think I should have liked to 
hear him explain, but he showed every one he met how 
to be a true man. He was the bravest, the most gentle, 


152 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


the most sympathetic man I ever met. He was all the 
time appealing to every one to do his best, and a great 
many began to do better, more because they wanted to 
please him than from any other reason, I think. 

“ Well, it was this boy’s privilege to meet this great 
teacher here at Weston, and from that time he did not 
feel that he was alone in the world any more. He 
knew there was some one who cared whether he did his 
best or not. And so he used to try, sometimes when 
he did not care much himself, just to please this friend. 
And he became better acquainted with him all the 
time, for this man would be in his rooms, and would go 
with him sometimes into the class, and he did not leave 
him even when he went down upon the ball field. 

“And the boy seemed to appreciate the man’s love 
more and more. There were times, again, when he felt 
bitter and almost desperate, and would say that it 
didn’t make any difference what he did. He might 
just as well go in and have as good a time as the other 
boys. But one look from the man’s eyes — he had 
wonderful eyes, Hill, and I have read that at one time 
when he turned and looked at one of his friends, 
just looked at him once, Hill, the friend was almost 
crushed, for he was doing wrong at the time, and he 
knew it ; and he ran out of the place where they were, 
out into the darkness, and sobbed and cried as if his 
heart would break, just like a little child, Hill — 
just one look from that man’s eyes would make the boy 
feel ashamed ; and many a time he went up into his 
room, and I suspect he sobbed just as this friend of the 
man’s had done of whom I just told you. 


THE INTERVIEW 


153 


‘ ‘ Then too, the boy would be tempted to do wrong. 
He was an affectionate, impulsive boy, and fell into 
evil so easily ; but just one touch of the man’s hand 
would help to draw him back again. And his hands 
were as wonderful as his eyes, Hill. They showed the 
marks of the suffering he had had at one time. They 
were gentle hands too, Hill, so gentle that he used to 
carry the little children with them, and yet so strong 
that it seemed as if they would never let anything go 
they had once grasped. 

“ This friendship between the boy and this man 
grew deeper. He taught the boy how to work, and 
how to talk, and how to meet his fellows. He used to 
show him more — he showed him just how to live. He 
showed him what life meant, and although he did not 
! tell him why many of the things came to him that did 
| come almost every day, yet he made him feel all the 
i time that he was learning. I think it must have been 
I like that thread in the labyrinth we were reading about 
to-day. It did not show the way very far ahead, but 
it helped one to find it all the time, and finally led out 
to the sunlight and the open air. 

“Well, Ward, I can’t explain it all to you now, but 
finally the man died as I told you, and yet he was 
only a young man at the time. Somehow it was some- 
thing in which I fear even the boy had a share that 
brought on his death, and it was an awful death too. 
But he did not forget the boy. He left a will and 
when they read it they found that he had left every- 
thing he possessed to him.” 

“ What did the boy do then ? ” asked Ward. 


154 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ He tried to follow out the directions the man had 
left. He had wanted the work, which he had only 
commenced, to be carried on, and he explained just 
what he wanted the boy to do.” 

‘ ‘ Who was the boy ? * ’ 

“ The boy was myself,” said Mr.. Crane ; “ and the 
man was ? ’ ’ 

“The Man of Nazareth,” said Ward, almost in a 
whisper ; “ but, Mr. Crane, I never in all my life before 
thought of it in that way.” 

“No, Hill, very likely not ; I felt in that way too, 
when I was your age. He seemed to me like some 
one a great way off, and when I first found that he 
was in the Weston school, and just as much here as he 
was in Jerusalem almost nineteen hundred years ago, I 
felt as if I had just been introduced to him. It is the 
same as it is with your mother, Hill. You don’t see 
her face now, but you know she is, and that she loves 
you, and wants you to do your best.” 

“ I’ll try, Mr. Crane,” said Ward, rising and grasp- 
ing the outstretched hand. 

“That’s right. We’ll both of us try ‘to do those 
things that are pleasing in His sight.’ Come and see 
me again, Hill. Good -night ! ” 

“ Good-night, Mr. Crane,” and Ward Hill left East 
Hall, and stood silent for a moment in the starlight. 


CHAPTER XVII 


MOUNTAIN DAY 

W ARD did not mention his interview with Mr. 

Crane to Henry when he returned to his room ; 
but the determined way in which he took up his work 
at once convinced his roommate that a new impulse 
had seized him. He said nothing, however, for a time, 
and it would have been far better if he had remained 
silent, for Ward was somewhat overwrought already 
by the conversation with Mr. Crane. Conscience and 
pride, good resolutions and indifference, admiration of 
Mr. Crane and the thought of what Jack and Tim 
would think if he should give way to the new impulses, 
were all struggling for the mastery now. And Ward 
Hill’s life for the time was hanging in the balance. 

Henry, who had no thought but to encourage his 
chum, knew nothing of the struggle which was going 
on, and although he was doubtless governed by the 
best of purposes, unfortunately said the wrong word for 
the time. 

“ I’m mighty glad to see you take hold again, 
Ward.” 

“ Are you ? ” replied Ward, without looking up from 
his book. The condemnation of his own conscience 
was enough, he thought, without having his chum take 
the high and mighty way with him. Who was he, 

155 


156 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


anyway, that he too should reach out and pat him on 
the head, as he would a dog which had been taught to 
bring back a stick thrown into a pond ? 

“Yes,” said Henry, all unconscious of Ward’s feel- 
ing. “I’ve been so anxious that you should do well 
on father’s account, as well as your own. I didn’t 
want him put to shame by our poor work. ’ ’ 

“Oh, you didn’t?” said Ward thoroughly angry. 
“Well, let me tell you that it’s all his fault, anyway. 
What did he know about teaching, I’d like to know? 
I’d as soon have my great-grandmother, as to have 
him. Just look at it, will you ? He said we could wait 
till the middle of the fourth year if we wanted to, and 
then enter — so excellent was his wonderful knowledge 
and ability as a teacher ; and here we are having all we 
can do to keep up with the third -year boys. Fine teacher 
he is, I must say ! I feel as if he ought to apologize to 
us, instead of our trying to honor him.” 

There was a bright red spot on the cheeks of each of 
the boys now, but Henry made no reply. He saw his 
mistake in speaking as he had done to Ward, and 
Ward in turn was ashamed of what he had said about 
Hr. Boyd, whom in his heart he loved and respected 
as he did few men ; but they were both too proud to 
acknowledge their faults, and the gulf between them 
was widened. 

For a few days Ward did better in his Latin, but 
Mr. Crane was too wise to say anything to him after 
the recitation, and the thoughts of the boys were all 
taken up with the expedition of the next Wednesday, 
which was to be the long -looked -for Mountain Day. 


MOUNTAIN DAY 


157 


There were no study hours the evening before, and 
as the weather promised to be all that could be desired, 
preparations were at once made to start for the Hump, 
and spend the night on its summit. 

Luncheons were prepared by the matron of the din- 
ing hall and by the women presiding over the various 
places where the boys took their meals, and at about 
two o’clock in the afternoon the group of which Ward 
was to be a member was ready to start. 

He and Jack had planned to go together, and at 
Jack’s very earnest request Pond had been invited to 
go with them. Somehow both boys had conceived a 
very strong regard for Pond, his quiet manners, his 
earnest spirit, and manly ways all combining to impress 
these two impulsive classmates of his, in the most favor- 
able way. 

“ Tim’s decided to go with us too,” said Jack, as he 
and his roommate came over to West Hall for Ward 
and Pond. 

“All right,” said Ward; “glad to have him.” 
And yet deep down in his heart he knew he was not 
telling the truth. He had really intended to do better, 
and yet the presence and influence of Tim was that of 
which Ward was most afraid. There was something in 
his manner and bearing of which he was afraid, although 
he did not like to acknowledge this even to himself ; 
and the easy way in which Tim laughed at everything 
and everybody not of his way of thinking, made 
Ward somewhat afraid to assert himself. 

Pond said nothing as the boys approached* although 
he greeted each in his quiet, pleasant way ; but he 


158 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


noticed the blankets they had strapped and swung over 
their shoulders. They certainly were well equipped for 
the journey. 

“ What’s that you’ve got there ? ” said Tim, pointing 
to a strange-looking bundle Pond had arranged. 

“That?” replied Pond. “Oh, that’s my bed 
quilt. Isn’t it a funny one? It’s one my grand- 
mother made for me when she heard I was coming up 
to Weston. It doesn’t look much like that blanket of 
yours, Tim ; but it’ 11 keep me as warm. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I thought you were taking it along for protection, 
to scare away ghosts or bears,” said Tim with a laugh, 
who was all unconscious of the poverty of Pond. He 
himself had never been accustomed to anything but the 
best, and so failed to appreciate the lacks of others. 

But Pond only laughed good-naturedly as he said : 
“If you think it’ll work in that w T ay I’ll trade with 
you, Tim. It’s all I’ve got, but it’ll keep me warm, 
and your blanket won’t do more than that for you, and 
I’ll have just as good a time as you will.” 

The entire frankness of Pond was marvelous to Ward, 
who was somewhat ashamed of the bundle he had to 
carry, and had been inclined to apologize for it ; but 
Pond’s example reassured him, and he said nothing. 

“Hello, here’s Big Smith,” said Jack. “Are you 
going up the Hump ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Big Smith ; “ I guess I’ll go along 
with you fellows. You know the way.” 

AY ard scowled, for this addition to their party was not 
pleasing to him ; but Tim, winking meaningly at Jack, 
said : “ Good for you, Big Smith. AVe’ll have to keep 


MOUNTAIN DAY 


159 


straight if you’re near by. It’ll be a kind of missionary 
trip for you.” 

“ That’s what I thought,” answered Big Smith, un- 
conscious of the banter in Tim’s words. “ I suppose I 
can help you. That’s the reason I chose to come with 
this company.” 

“ Mighty kind of you,” and Jack winked at Tim. 
“ Where’s your bundle? ” 

“ Oh, I thought I wouldn’t bring any. Some one’ll 
help me out if I need it, I guess. ’ ’ 

“ All right, let’s start then, fellows,” said Jack, and 
the five boys together left the building, and soon were 
tramping along the road which led to the base of the 
mountain. 

It was a perfect October day. The sides of the 
mountains were almost a blaze of glory in the many- 
colored tints of the autumn foliage. The shocks of 
corn still stood in many of the fields by which they 
passed, and in some of the orchards there were boys 
and girls gathering the dark-colored apples from the 
trees. There was such an air of comfort and of plenty 
about the homes of many of the farmers, that poverty 
and want seemed to be something which could not enter 
there. 

Groups of boys could be seen climbing the hills in 
advance of them, or far below in the valleys they had 
passed. Ned Butler and Henry were left behind by 
our party, which was walking far more rapidly than 
they, and the first cloud of the day came to Ward as 
he noted how happy they seemed to be in each other’s 
company. 


160 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“We’ll catch up with you long before you reach 
the summit of the Hump,” said Ned, as Ward passed 
them. “ You’ll soon find you can’t keep up that gait 
when you begin to climb. I’ve been there before.” 

“ Pshaw ! We’ll have to wait supper for you,” re- 
plied Jack. “ Don’t you want us to give you a lift 
now ? You look tired out.” 

“Here is the place I was telling you about,” said 
Tim, as he leaped over the low fence by the roadside, 
and began to shake the pears from a tree in a yard. 

“Oh, hold on, Tim,” said Ned. “Don’t be so 
free till you’re invited. Can we buy a few of these 
pears ? ” he added, as he saw the farmer standing in 
the doorway observing them. 

“Help yourselves, boys,” replied the farmer. 
“ We’ve had all the seckels we want. Jest pitch in and 
help yourselves. Only leave the tree, that’s all I ask,” 
he added laughingly. 

The boys needed no second invitation, and soon filled 
their pockets, and thanking the kind-hearted farmer, 
who seemed to enjoy the sport, resumed their journey, 
although Ned and Henry soon dropped behind. 

“They don’t care for our company, I judge,” said 
Tim, with a sneer. “AYe’ll manage to survive the 
loss though, I think. Come on, fellows, we’ll have to 
forge ahead, or we won’t get up the Hump in time to 
see the sun rise, to say nothing of its setting.” 

“ I don’t know, but I ought to go back with them,” 
said Big Smith soberly. ‘ ‘ They may be talking of 
some things that will profit me more than what I get 
here.” 


MOUNTAIN DAY 


161 


“ Don’t you believe it,” said Jack. “ Do you like 
these pears, Big Smith ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Big Smith, “I do. They don’t grow 
around where I live. As he gave them to us I thought 
I’d lay in a good supply.” 

‘ ‘ Good for you, Smith. I noticed that you took a 
few,” and Jack slapped his companion’s pockets, all of 
which bulged out with the load they were carrying. 

In an hour they had arrived at the base of the moun- 
tain, and could catch glimpses of the summit of the 
Hump which rose far above them. Clouds seemed to 
lie between them and the point they were bound for, 
and Jack, turning to Big Smith and striving to imitate 
his deepest tones, said : ‘ * My friend, I hope you are 
prepared to take this trip. You’ll be far above the 
earth ere long. In fact, you’ll soon be above the clouds 
of earth, and as you are not encumbered with many 
earthly belongings, I trust you have well pondered the 
pathway you are about to enter.” 

‘ ‘ I should feel better if I had brought something to 
eat,” replied Big Smith soberly. “ I told my brother 
George to go down to the dining hall and lay in a good 
supply of provisions, but as he was going with another 
party I’m not sure that he did. And I begin to feel 
the cravings of hunger even now.” 

“ Oh, you’ll have something to eat before to-morrow 
night,” said Tim. “You’ll have a chance for a fine 
diet. You’ve brought enough of it along with you to 
satisfy us all.” 

“I’ve brought nothing,” said Big Smith, looking at 
Jack. “ What does he mean ? ” 

L 


162 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ Oh, I guess he means you’ll eat your words,” re- 
plied Jack. “ You’ve heard of that, haven’t you?” 

“ Yes ; but how can I eat words. They won’t satisfy 
my hunger, which I begin to feel already. ’ ’ 

The boys laughed and turned to follow Tim, who had 
found a great chestnut tree on the mountain side. The 
burrs had been opened by the frosts, and the nuts lay 
thick upon the ground. For a few minutes they were 
busy picking them up, and then Jack and Ward 
climbed the tree to shake down some that might still 
be clinging to the branches. They worked hard, but 
Big Smith worked harder, and gathered the most of 
those that fell, so that when the boys returned to the 
ground there were few left for them. 

“ Here, Big Smith, divide ! ” said Ward. 

“Divide what?” replied Big Smith. “I only 
have these I picked up. Surely you cannot mean that 
you want any of these.” 

“No, of course not,” said Jack. “We didn’t 
mean those that we shook down. That would be too 
unkind altogether. We only wanted you to let us 
help you carry them for you up the mountain. We 
didn’t know but you might be tired, the load is so 
heavy. ’ ’ 

“No,” replied Big Smith. “I think I can carry 
them. They’re not very heavy. ” 

And all unconscious of the meaning of Jack’s words, 
he joined them as they once more began the ascent. For 
a part of the way there was a rough road which led up 
the mountain side, and which was used by the lumber- 
men in the winter, but this soon grew less distinct, and 










.. 

















































“ Soon th ey made frequent stops to rest.” 

J’age 1C>3. 


MOUNTAIN DAY 


163 


the pathway became narrow and hard. Rough stones 
were in it that rolled beneath the feet of the boys. 
Soon they were flushed and panting, and made frequent 
stops to rest. 

Other parties of boys were seen as they looked be- 
hind them, and as they climbed higher and higher the 
vision of the land beneath them became wider and 
wider. Hills which they had considered high began 
to look like ant-hills now. Once the path led around 
the edge of a precipice, and looking down they could 
see a farmhouse in the sheltered valley below. 

“ I’m going to wait for the other fellows,” said Big 
Smith at last, seating himself on a boulder. ‘ 1 1 must 
rest. I’m not strong enough to go on now.” 

None of the boys made any reply, as they resumed 
their climbing. Their faces were flushed, and were 
wet with perspiration ; but the summit was not far away 
now, and eagerly they pushed on. Stumbling often, 
and sometimes falling, they kept steadily at their work. 
There was no resting now. Up and up they went, 
steeper and steeper grew the pathway, and after another 
hour had passed, a shout from Jack showed them that 
at last they had arrived at their journey’s end. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE NIGHT ON THE SUMMIT 

T HE weary boys turned to look about them as soon 
as they gained the summit of the Hump. A 
long flat tableland extended for some distance about 
them, and at first they could hardly realize that they 
were standing on the top of the mountain which they 
had so often noticed in the valley below them. There, 
it had appeared to stand almost alone, so much higher 
did its summit reach than any of the adjacent hills, 
while their present view appeared to make it one among 
several of the higher peaks. 

One look away in the distance, however, soon called 
back their thoughts, and they at once realized that 
they were standing on the highest point of land in all 
that region. As far as the eye could see, were peaks 
which dotted the earth like ant-hills. Between them 
lay the valleys, and the streams of water flashed like 
silver ribbons in the late afternoon of that October day 
as they wound down the hillsides and made their way 
onward to the great river beyond. 

Little clusters of houses could be seen here and there, 
and Ward knew that they must be villages, although 
they looked like the toy houses with which he had 
played when he was a child. 

Far on the right a little cloud of smoke indicated 
164 


THE NIGHT ON THE SUMMIT 


165 


what they recognized as a tiny train of cars, but it 
seemed to be hardly moving, although doubtless it was 
rushing onward with a speed of thirty or forty miles 
an hour. Here and there below them, along the sides 
of the Hump, were fast-flying patches of fog, and 
Ward’s heart bounded as he thought that they must be 
clouds, and that they were standing above them. 
Above the clouds ! It was his first experience of the 
kind, and with renewed interest he watched the swift 
moving shadows on the valley directly beneath them, 
and realized that they must be cast by the very clouds 
above which he was standing. 

None of the boys spoke for a time, all being alike 
impressed by the grandeur of the view, and standing 
with an expression upon their faces that reflected the 
feelings of all. Pond was the first to break the silence 
as he said : * ‘ When I see those ridges of hills and the 
stretch of the valleys it makes me think of what some 
one said, when he declared that * the plowshare of the 
Almighty must have been run through all this land.’ ” 

“You make me think of what one of the fellows 
who graduated last year said,” replied Jack. “ He 
declared that he never climbed to the top of the Hump 
without feeling when he first looked down that he ought 
to say his prayers. ’ ’ 

“I don’t wonder,” said Ward, “that they say all 
the great men are born or live a part of their lives 
among the mountains. Don’t they say that . the Swiss 
soldiers used to die of homesickness when they were 
taken away from the mountains ? ’ ’ 

“ I believe so,” said Tim ; “ but I’ll tell you what, 


166 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


fellows, if we don’t pre-empt one of these huts pretty, 
quick, some one else will, and we’ll be left out in the 
cold, cold world. Here come a lot of the others, and 
possession is nine points of the law, you know, and they 
say the other one isn’t worth fighting about. Come on, 
fellows. ’ ’ 

The spell was broken, and the boys turned quickly \ 
to follow Tim into one of the three little huts that 
stood in the center of the plateau. These huts had 
been erected by some of the lumbermen who were ac- 
customed to work there in the winter time. They 
stood about a blackened spot which showed very plainly 
where they had built their fires, and in a moment the 
boys had selected the best, and had taken full possession. 

Then they turned to watch the boys, whom they could 
see in places struggling up the rough pathway in par- 
ties of three or four. The first to arrive w T ere greeted 
with a shout of welcome, and soon others came panting 
up to the summit, and joined their fellows. The other 
two huts were quickly taken possession of by the new 
arrivals, and those who came later w T ere compelled to 
make their arrangements for passing the night as best 
they could. It was not long before there were fifty in 
the group of laughing boys, and all who had planned 
to come had gained the summit of the Hump. 

‘ ‘ I say, fellows, ’ ’ said Tim, when the last party had 
arrived, “I’m as hungry as a bear. I think the first 
thing we want to do is to have some supper. Why 
don’t we have a combination supper and each fellow 
turn in his possessions for the common good ? It’ll be 
more fun to do that than for each one to go by himself. ’ ’ 


THE NIGHT ON THE SUMMIT 


167 


^ The boys all laughingly agreed to Tim’s proposal, 
and soon the provisions were deposited near the great 
stones where the fire was to be made. Some of the 
boys who had made the journey before, and who knew 
what would be needed, had brought a supply of coffee, 
and there was also milk which others had purchased in 
the valley below. 

Several of the boys were designated as those who 
should look after the fire, and others started with 
hatchets they had brought to provide fuel for the fire, 
while others were at once dispatched to cut and collect 
quantities of the hemlock boughs which were to provide 
the beds for the night. 

In this last company Ward, Pond, and Big Smith 
found themselves together, and as they worked w T e may 
be sure that their tongues also were not idle. 

“ Ward, ’’ said Pond, “ I want to speak to you.” 

“Say on, my friend; don’t be bashful,” replied 
Ward, as he cut an extra large branch with his knife. 

“It’s about Jack. Do you know, he’s a splendid 
fellow?” 

“I ought to. I’ve seen some good things about 
him. He’s not a sneak, either.” 

“ No, that’s so ; but that isn’t what I mean. I w r as 
talking with him the other day, and I happened to say I 
thought I’d have to stay out of school this spring and 
try to earn some money so that I could come back next 
year. I didn’t think much about it at the time ; but 
what do you think the fellow did ? ” 

“I can’t imagine,” replied Ward. “Perhaps he 
wept on your shoulder at the thought of parting.” 


168 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ Not a bit of it. He wrote home to his father and 
told him all about me. He said he wrote that he didn’t 
see why, when his father was taking stock in all sorts 
of things, he shouldn’t take or let Jack take a little 
stock in me. He said he didn’t ever expect to be a 
preacher, or of much use in the world, anyway, so he’d 
like to invest a little in one whom he was kind enough 
to say he thought would try, anyhow.” 

“What did his father say?” inquired Ward, look- 
ing up quickly. 

‘ ‘ He sent him a check for one hundred dollars, and 
Jack gave it to me.” There was a tremor in Pond’s 
voice as he spoke, and Ward thought his eyes were 
filled with tears. 

“Good for Jack ! You’re going to keep it, aren’t 
you?” 


“ Yes,” said Pond quietly. “ Do you know, I never 
had any of that feeling about taking from those who 
have been more fortunate than I. When I think of 
my mother, and what she’s trying to do for me, I don’t 
hesitate a minute. Of course some day I want to pay 
it back, and I’m going to try to do my best ; but wasn’t 
it good of Jack ? ’ ’ 

“It was that,” said Ward; “and you’ll be here 
now to play on the nine in the spring too.” 

Pond laughed, and the boys started to return with 
their arms laden with the fragrant boughs ; that is, all 
but Big Smith, who had been silent, listening with such 
evident interest to what Pond was telling that he had 
forgotten his errand. 

^ There was a roaring fire at the camp when they re- 


THE NIGHT ON THE SUMMIT 


169 


turned, and as the other boys soon came back with 
their contributions of fuel for the fire, or branches for 
the beds, the supper was soon ready to be served. 

There were but few dishes to be found, and the 
cups had to be served by being passed from hand to 
hand. 

“ Whew ! what’s the matter with this coffee? ” said 
Ned Butler, as he took the cup offered him. “ It’s got 
great strings of something in it. Looks like leather.” 

“Tim, you boiled the milk in the coffee didn’t 
you ? ” and Jack laughed as he asked the question. 

“Yes,” replied Tim. “Isn’t that the way to do 
it?” 

A loud laugh from all greeted Tim’s confession. 
The coffee was spoiled, but the keen appetites of the 
boys did ample justice to all the other food. They 
laughed, and sang, and cracked their jokes, and Ward, 
who was thoroughly enjoying himself, thought that 
never before in all his life had he had so good a time. 

“ There goes the sun, fellows,” exclaimed Ned, sud- 
denly leaping to his feet. “ Now’s your chance to see 
the sunset from the top of the Hump.” 

The boys all turned to watch the great red globe as 
it slowly sank behind the western hills. Long shafts 
of light were cast upon the hillsides, and seemed to 
deepen the effects of the gloom which already had 
come over the valleys. There were gorgeous colors and 
softened tints, and they could see the sun itself as it 
slowly dropped from sight. The blaze of glory sud- 
denly disappeared, and then they knew the night was 
almost upon them. » 


170 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“We haven’t half enough hemlock boughs for 
bedding,” said Tim quickly. “You’ll have to hurry, 
fellows, or sleep on the ground.” 

There was a scattering at once and soon the boys 
came hurrying back with their arms again laden with 
bqughs, and the beds were soon arranged. 

“Who’s going to wash the dishes?” said Ned. 
“ That work hasn’t been done yet.” 

“ Oh, bother the dishes. What’s the use of washing 
them? I never could see why people are so eager to 
wash such things for. They were clean enough when 
we quit eating, and I guess they’ll be clean enough to 
begin with to-morrow morning, especially w T hen we 
haven’t much left for breakfast anyhow,” said Jack. 

“ That’s the way with Big Smith,” said Tim with a 
laugh. “ He says he doesn’t believe it pays to w r ash 
your hands, they get dirty again so soon if you do.” 

“When did I say that?” said Big Smith quickly, 
not appreciating the banter of his companions. “I 
never said that to my recollection.” 

A laugh greeted his words, but several of the boys 
at once began the task of washing the dishes, w 7 hile the 
others lay, or sat, grouped about the great fire. They 
roasted the chestnuts they had gathered, told stories, 
made jokes at one another’s expense, and when at last 
it was decided that the time had come for them to 
“ turn in,” Ward could scarcely believe that the even- 
ing had passed. 

As he entered the hut in which he was to pass the 
night, Tim was there, and drawing a bottle from his 
pocket, he offered to share it w T ith Ward. 


THE NIGHT ON THE SUMMIT 


171 


“ No,” said Ward quickly, “ I promised my mother 
I wouldn’t touch the stuff.” 

“All right, sonny,” replied Tim; “always mind 
your mammy. I’ve given up the apron strings long 
ago. Your mother doesn’t know much about life. 
I’m going to learn though,” and he again turned the 
bottle up, and drank from it. 

It was the first time Ward had seen any drinking in 
the school, and he felt shocked and disgusted. He had 
never liked Tim, and had been unconsciously drawn to 
him more by his good-natured and condescending ways 
than by anything else. He had no time to say any- 
thing more however, as the other members of the party 
who were to pass the night in the hut here entered, 
Big Smith along with them. 

“ I didn’t bring any blanket,” said Big Smith rue- 
fully, “ and it’s cold. I’m afraid I’ll be sick and ruin 
my voice. Boys, what shall I do? ” 

“I’ll share with you,” said Pond quickly. 

“You can’t wrap yourself up in your bedquilt, if 
you do,” growled Tim; “I’d let him go it alone. 
He’ll know better the next time. It’s the only way to 
teach some fellows.” 

“ Oh, I’ll throw it over both of us. I guess that will 
do. I don’t want Big Smith to ruin his voice. What 
would the fellows in West Hall do then, poor things? ” 

Big Smith at once selected the best place on the bed 
of boughs and took the quilt, which he quickly spread 
over him. There was not much left for Pond, but he 
good-naturedly took his place beside his companion, 
and lay down for the night. 


172 


WAKD HILL AT WESTON 


Ward and Jack stepped outside the hut for a last 
look at the camp. The boys were scattered about on 
the boughs, with their feet toward the huge fire which 
had been left blazing, and which cast its shadows in 
fantastic forms over them. The wind was strong, but 
the night was clear and starlight, and there would not 
be much difficulty in keeping warm. It was a weird, 
strange sight, and wholly new in Ward’s experience. 

“There won’t be much sleeping to-night, Ward,” 
said Jack, as they turned again into the hut. 

“Why not?” 

“Oh, you’ll have to wait and see.” And Ward 
soon “saw.” No sooner had quiet settled over the 
camp, than some disturbance would arise. Some one 
would arise and throw fresh wood upon the fire, or 
begin a song which others would take up. Again and 
again the Weston school cheer was given, and the 
echoes among the hills were awakened. 

Tim Pickard was among the noisest of them all, and 
Ward again and again looked keenly at him, thinking 
that he understood something of the cause of his hilar- 
ity. Big Smith grumbled loudly at the constant dis- 
turbance, but was mollified somewhat when at last the 
boys dragged him out, and compelled him to make a 
speech. His words were received with loud applause, 
and beaming benignantly upon all, he again sought 
his bed on the boughs, this time appropriating all of 
Pond’s quaint bedquilt to himself. 

Long before sunrise the boys were running about the 
camp, and waiting for the sun to appear. At last the 
gray of the dawn came in the east, and soon an increas- 


THE NIGHT ON THE SUMMIT 


173 


ing glow was in the sky. Then hill after hill began to 
take form, and at last with a sudden burst the sun came 
up from behind the crest of the eastern ridge, and the 
whole scene was transfigured by his glory. 

“That pays for the tramp,” said Ned Butler. 
“ What a sight ! You’ve lost it, Big Smith.” 

* ‘ Lost what ? ’ ’ said Big Smith, rubbing his eyes 
sleepily, and coming out of his hut. 

“The sunrise. It’s the most glorious one I ever 
saw,” replied Ned. 

“Oh, it isn’t much of a loss, just to see the sun. I’ve 
seen it rise lots of times. I’m afraid I’ve caught cold. 
I didn’t sleep very warm last night.” 

“Stir around then, and help get breakfast,” inter- 
rupted Jack, who was busily engaged in that occupation 
himself. “ You’ll soon warm up then.” 

“I can’t cook,” replied Big Smith turning away. 
“ I wasn’t made for such work.” 

But the breakfast was soon ready, and then he 
showed no lack of ability to do his part. That was 
a “ duty ” from which he never drew back. 

Soon after breakfast the most of the boys prepared 
to return to the school. There was not sufficient provi- 
sion for dinner, and so in groups, as they had come, 
they began the descent of the mountain. Some stopped 
occasionally to gather chestnuts, but the most of them 
were so stiff and sore from the exertions of the previous 
day, they had no disposition to delay. 

“ Tim,” said Jack, “ why didn’t you fix Big Smith, 
as you agreed to ? ” The two boys were walking apart 
now, and their words could not be overheard. 


174 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“I’ve changed my plan,” said Tim in a low voice. 
“I’ve got something better,” and he explained his new 
project to his companion, who listened intently a mo- 
ment, and then with a loud laugh turned back, and re- 
joined his companions. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE FALL 

W ARD took but little part in the conversation of 
the boys, as they followed the rough path down 
the mountain side. He was troubled by that which he 
had seen Tim Pickard do the night before, and he 
watched him now with a feeling of disgust, and yet of 
strange interest too. 

Tim was unusually boisterous, and as they walked 
on, Ward noticed that his eyes were unnaturally bright, 
and that he was more than commonly rough in his 
manners. 

He pushed his companions about, and laughed aloud 
when they lost their balance, or when they fell. He 
shouted and sang and waked the. echoes among the 
hills, and certainly was not acting like himself. 

Ward thought he was the only one in the party who 
was suspicious of Tim, although he noticed frequently 
that Ned Butler glanced curiously at him, and was 
closely observing the movements of his noisy companion. 
They had gone far enough down the side of the moun- 
tain now to enable them to see the road which led 
through the valley, and only a little way before them 
was the steep declivity, along the edge of which their 
pathway ran. This was not a sheer precipice, but only 
a very steep descent, so steep that if one were to attempt 

175 


176 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


to go down it, he doubtless would fall and roll to the 
valley which lay nearly two hundred feet below them. 

Ward could see far down now, and the pathway led 
around in the form of a half circle, and only a few feet 
from the edge. The people who lived in the red farm- 
house below were moving about in the yard, and stopped 
and glanced upward as they discovered the boys moving 
along the rough pathway which was seldom used except 
in winter. 

“Come on, fellows!” suddenly shouted Tim. 
“Let’s have a race around the horseshoe,” for that 
was the name by which the winding path was known. 
There was a sharp descent even in the path itself, and 
as it was so near the edge, great caution was needed by 
any one going down that he did not stumble and fall ; 
and as for running, no one of sound mind would have 
dreamed of that. 

Without waiting for a response, Tim darted suddenly 
ahead, and began to run swiftly down the path, shout- 
ing and waving his arms as he ran on. Ned looked 
quickly at Ward a moment, and then both boys started 
swiftly after him, the others at once following them. 

On and on ran the boisterous Tim, his companions 
doing their utmost to keep up with him, and every mo- 
ment expecting to see him stumble and fall. Giving 
no heed to their warning calls, Tim still ran swiftly on, 
and had turned the bend, and now was nearly opposite 
to them on the farther side of the mountain. Perhaps 
he would pass the place of danger all right, thought 
Ward ; but neither he nor Ned, who were running in 
advance of the others, relaxed his effort to overtake 


THE FALL 


177 


him. Tim was still running on, as if he was trying to 
show what he could do. Calls and warnings were all 
unheeded by him and it seemed as if his speed was in- 
creasing each moment. 

‘ ‘ Did you ever see a fellow run like that ? ’ ’ said 
Ned. “ He can distance every fellow in the school.” 

“ He’s crazy, or ” but Ward did not complete 

the sentence, for just then Tim turned toward them, 
and without stopping, shouted: 4 ‘Come on, fellows. 
What are you waiting for? If you’ll catch me, I’ll 
carry you down the mountain on my back ; come on ! ” 

He waved his arms at them again, and then as he 
looked backward suddenly stumbled and fell to the 
ground. Unable to regain his footing, he rolled over 
and over, moving swiftly toward the edge of the path- 
way, and directly toward the steep side of the moun- 
tain, steeper there than in any other part of the way 
down to the valley below them. 

All of his companions stopped running, and scarcely 
breathing were watching the unfortunate boy. Not a 
word was spoken, but with straining eyes they followed 
his swift movements as he desperately strove to stop 
himself by clutching at the stones, and digging the 
heels of his shoes into the ground. 

It was the most terrible moment in all of Ward’s 
life. He felt that he must leap across the gulf between 
them and seize the falling boy before he came to the 
edge. He tried to cry out, but could not make a 
sound. Almost fascinated by the horror of the sight 
before him, and unable to turn his head aside so that 
he would not see what was surely about to happen, he 
M 


178 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


watched every motion of the helpless boy, who was 
now within a few feet of the edge, and it did not look 
as if any power on earth could check him. 

“Oh, there he goes,” groaned Ned, as a moment 
later Tim’s rolling body shot several feet out over the 
edge and began to fall through the air, now unchecked 
by rolling stones or any other obstacle. 

Ward could scarcely breathe. It seemed to him an 
hour, but in reality it was only a few seconds before 
Tim struck heavily upon the sloping mountain side, 
and began to roll on again. Sometimes head foremost, 
sometimes with his feet first, and then again turning 
and rolling in what seemed to be almost every direction 
at once, the swiftly-moving body plunged downward. 
On and on it went, until it struck a small projecting 
ledge on which a few huckleberry bushes were growing, 
and there it lodged, the feet however hanging out over 
the edge of the ledge, with nothing directly between 
them and the valley far below. 

In a moment now the boys regained their self-pos- 
session and ran with all possible speed around the 
curving ‘ ‘ horseshoe, ’ ’ until all four of them stood on 
the edge of the path peering down at their helpless 
companion, forty feet below them. 

“Tim, are you hurt?” called Jack, who was lying 
on the ground and gazing down at his room-mate. But 
Tim made no reply. “Tim, can’t you answer me?” 
called Jack again. There was a tremor in his voice, 
but still he received no reply. They could see Tim’s 
white face looking up at them, but he was all uncon- 
scious of the words and presence of his frightened com- 


THE FALL 


179 


panions. Ward had drawn back, for the sight had 
made him faint for the moment, but quickly regaining 
his self-control, he too peered down again at the help- 
less body below him. 

“He’s fainted, or dead,” said Ned quickly. “If 
he should move six inches from where he is, he’ll fall, 
and nothing on earth can save him from going clear 
down to the valley. What shall we do? ” 

“ Some one must go down there,” said Pond quietly; 
“ and some one will have to run for a rope. If we get 
it in time, we can save him yet.” 

‘ ‘ But no one can go down there till the rope comes, ’ ’ 
said Ned. “It would be death if he should miss the 
ledge. ’ ’ 

“We mustn’t wait for the rope,” said Pond quietly. 
“If Tim moves, he’ll fall. We must manage some- 
how to hold him where he is, if we can.” 

“ I’ll go for the rope,” said Jack, and without wait- 
ing a moment he sped down the path, and quickly dis- 
appeared from sight. 

“ Big Smith, you’re the biggest and strongest of us 
all. You go down for him,” said Ned. 

“ I couldn’t think of it,” replied Big Smith quickly. 
“ It makes me faint just to look down there now. It 
wouldn’t do for me to go. I might be hurt. I really 
can’t.” 

“I’m going, fellows,” said Pond quietly, quickly 
throwing aside his coat. His face was pale, but there 
was an expression upon it such as W ard had never seen 
before on any face. Going to the edge, Pond very care- 
fully estimated the distance and direction of the ledge, 


180 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


and then, without hesitating a moment, upon his back 
and with his feet foremost, he let go his hold, and the 
swift descent was begun. 

Breathless, the boys watched him as he began to 
slide, and tried to guide his course. His speed in- 
creased each moment, but he was moving directly to- 
ward the ledge. He held his head erect, and could 
slightly change his movements by the aid of his hands 
and arms, and as he slid on they could see that he was 
likely to gain the point for which he had started. It 
was the heroism of unselfishness, and the boys felt that 
Pond, in risking his life for Tim, was showing them 
something of which they had read but which they 
never before had seen. 

A groan escaped them when they saw that although 
Pond had struck the ledge with his feet, the force and 
swiftness with which he was moving, as soon as he came 
against the rock, threw his body forward and almost as 
if he were diving, he was thrown headlong over the 
place. 

But Pond was quick and strong, and when he darted 
swiftly ahead, he had reached out and grasped the bushes 
with his hands. They were strong enough to hold him, 
and clinging to them for a moment and w T ith his body 
hanging over the ledge and nothing to prevent his fall- 
ing straight to the valley below but his hold on the tough 
little bushes, he began slowly and carefully to draw him- 
self up again, as he would have done on the parallel bars 
in the gymnasium. He soon threw one foot over the 
ledge, and then by one quick strong movement drew his 
body up also, and was safe on the ledge. 


THE FALL 


181 


A shout went up from the boys above when they saw 
the success which had attended his efforts, a shout in- 
creased by other boys who had now joined them. Pond 
moved quickly to the place where Tim was lying, and 
drawing him farther back into a place of safety, at once 
began to examine him. 

“ He’s- only fainted, fellows,” said he a moment later, 
and another shout went up from the crowd of watching 
boys above. “ I think he’s broken an arm, though,” 
Pond added, a moment later ; “I can’t tell yet ; and 
he may be hurt in other ways, but he’s alive, and his 
heart is going all right. Now hurry up with your rope. ’ ’ 

But a full hour passed before Jack returned with a 
rope. He could scarcely breathe when he rejoined his 
fellows, and as he threw himself upon the ground, his 
eager companions seized the rope, while Ned made a 
strong slip noose in the end, and began to lower it to 
Pond. 

All the boys were on the ground now, peering with 
breathless interest down at the boys below them. The 
rope came nearer and nearer, and finally rested directly 
before Pond, who tried to grasp it with his hands but 
failed. He could not quite reach it. 

‘ ‘ Swing it, fellows, swing it a bit, ’ ’ called Pond, and 
in a moment the rope had come within his eager but 
trembling grasp. 

Pond then slipped the noose over Tim’s body and 
adjusted it carefully under his arms. After he had 
drawn it as tight as his strength permitted, he looked up 
and called : “Now, fellows ! pull steadily and strong, 
and don’t let it slip an inch. Now then ! ” 


182 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Slowly the body of Tim moved up from the ledge, 
his head hanging to one side, and in spite of the efforts 
of the boys, sometimes striking roughly against the side 
of the mountain. When he was near the top, a half- 
dozen eager hands grasped him, and with one strong 
effort on the part of all, he was pulled over the edge, 
and Tim was safe. 

Quickly the rope was lowered again for Pond, and 
once more it was seized by the waiting boy, and after 
looking carefully to the knot, he adjusted it beneath 
his own arms, and keeping a tight hold with his hands, 
he called out, “ All ready, fellows.” 

The rope tightened and Pond felt himself lifted from 
the ledge and swung out over the edge ; with his feet he 
kept himself from striking against the rough sides of the 
mountain, and soon the forty feet between him and 
safety were passed, and Pond too was lifted over the 
edge and stood once more among his companions. 

“ Look out, fellows, he’s fainted, ’ ’ said Ward quickly, 
as he saw Pond’s face become deadly white and his body 
begin to sway. 

They caught the falling boy in their arms and gently 
laid him upon the ground. They loosened his collar, 
and bathed his face with cool water from a spring near 
by, and in a few moments he opened his eyes and gazed in 
surprise about him. “ I guess I fainted,” he said with 
a smile, and then as the whole terrible experience came 
back he said quickly, “ Where’s Tim ? ” 

“ He’s here ; he’s all right, I guess,” replied Ward ; 
“ you saved him, Pond.” 

“ Did I ? ” said Pond dreamily ; “ I’m so glad ” 


THE FALL 


183 


but he did not finish his sentence, for the over -tired 
boy again became unconscious. 

“Now, fellows,” said Ned Butler quickly, “we’ve 
got to carry Pond and Tim down the mountain. When 
we once get into the valley, we’ll find some kind of a 
rig to take them over to Weston in, but we’ll have to 
carry them till we come to the road.” 

At once the boys began to proffer their services, but 
Jack interposed and quietly said : “No, you can’t 
carry them in any such way as you are talking about. 
Unstrap your blankets and we’ll take one for Tim and 
one for Pond. Then three fellows take hold of each side 
of each blanket, and we’ll carry them both all right.” 

“That’s the thing,” said Ned; “good for you 
Speck,” and in a moment Pond had been carefully 
placed on one of the blankets and Tim gently laid upon 
another, and then lifting them slowly from the ground 
the little procession began its way down the mountain 
side. 


CHAPTER XX 


IN EAST HALL 



OT half the journey to the valley had been finished, 


-L\ before both Pond and Tim opened their eyes 
and spoke to their helpers. Pond insisted at once upon 
being released from his position, a request to which his 
friends would not listen ; but Tim could only groan, and 
complain of the intense pain he was suffering in his 
arm. But the boys moved on slowly and carefully, 
striving to soothe the suffering lad, and in a half-hour 
arrived at the farmhouse which stood near the base of 
the mountain, and on the road which led back to 
Weston. 

Here they arranged for a carriage which, although 
Jack declared it must have been “ Noah’s family turn- 
out,” was nevertheless fairly comfortable, and at last 
brought them safely into the village. The two invalids 
were at once carried up to their rooms, and Dr. Gray 
and the village physician were speedily summoned. 

Tim’s trouble was at once pronounced to be a frac- 
ture of the arm, and the doctor declared that he must 
go home immediately. Pond would be all right in a 
few days, and was to remain at Weston. 

A crowd of boys assembled the next day to give Tim 
a worthy “send-off” when the coach left the village, 
and the pale-faced captain of the nine, leaning back in 


184 


IN EAST HALL 


185 


his seat against the pillows carefully arranged by Jack, 
who was to be his companion on the journey to New 
York, where Tim’s home was, smiled and looked happy, 
in spite of his suffering, at the manifest good-will of the 
students. 

He had never been popular wdth his fellows, and his 
position as leader of a certain - class of the boys was due 
entirely to his physical strength and the possession of 
money. All of these things were forgotten, however, 
in the excitement which his adventure had aroused, 
and the sympathy which had been called forth by his 
suffering. 

As for Pond, for several days the school did not tire 
of singing his praises, and the modest boy was almost 
overwhelmed by the attentions he received. Dr. Gray 
proudly referred to his heroism before the assembly of the 
students in chapel. Mrs. Gray visited him in his room, 
and brought him some little delicacies ; the teachers 
spoke of him to their classes and praised him when 
they met him, and the boys could talk of little else, un- 
til Pond laughingly declared that the next time he 
went down the side of the Hump after Tim, he did not 
believe he would come back at all, as his experiences in 
the school were harder to be endured than the adven- 
ture itself. But Pond was high in the regard of all 
the Weston boys, and although they soon ceased to talk 
of his deed, the position he had won in their respect 
and affection was not lost. 

On the second day after the departure of Tim, Jack 
returned to Weston and reported that his room-mate 
was doing well, although his family declared that he 


186 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


would not return to the school until after the Christmas 
holidays, a decision against which the patient did not 
rebel. 

“ Ward,” said Jack that evening when he was seated 
in Ward’s room, before the bell for the study hour was 
rung, “ Tim’s going to be away two months now, and 
there’s something I want you to do for me. Tell me, 
will you do it ? ” 

“Why, of course,” said Ward. “I haven’t the 
slightest idea what it is you want', but I’ll do it. Is it 
to go to Madagascar, or join the ‘ Tangs ’ ? ” 

“It’s neither, that is, just at present. I want you 
to come over and room with me till Tim comes back. ’ ’ 

“I’d like to,” replied Ward quickly ; “ but I don’t 
know as it would do,” he added slowly. 

“ Why not, I’d like to know? It’s a better room 
than this den ever thought of being. ’ ’ 

“You don’t have to say that,” said Ward, glancing 
about the room. “ I know that already.” 

“Well, why not come then? Here you’ll have to 
look after your own room, take care of your own fires, 
and all that sort of thing. Over in my room all that’s 
done for you. All you’ll have to do will be to eat, 
drink, and be merry, and to put up with your humble 
servant. ’ ’ 

“It’s Henry I’m thinking about,” replied Ward. 
“What will he say to it? I’ll have to come back 
here next term, you know.” 

“ Oh, he won’t care. I’ll take good care of him too. 
Come on, and we’ll go over and ask Dr. Gray about 
it before the bell rings. Come on, Ward ; come on.” 


IN EAST HALL 


187 


As Ward was eager for the change, he allowed him- 
self to be persuaded, and soon the boys were in Dr. 
Gray’s study, and the desired permission had been ob- 
tained. 

W ard thought the doctor hesitated about giving his 
consent to the change, and as he added some warning 
words about the danger of neglecting his w T ork, and a 
few other things, he knew what was in his mind ; but, 
happy over the consent which had reluctantly been 
given, he gave little heed to his impressions, and both 
boys quickly returned to Ward’s room. 

Henry was there, and when Ward explained the 
project, he was somewhat irritated at the quick consent 
which Henry gave, although this was soon lost in his 
pleasure at the separation, though it was probably only 
to be temporary. 

Just how the change in his feelings had come about, 
he could not explain even to himself. He was well 
aware of all the sterling qualities Henry possessed, and 
in many ways he thoroughly respected him ; but their 
relations had been more and more strained of late, and 
Ward like many another had laid the blame of it all 
to the charge of his friend. 

Perhaps his own increasing carelessness, and the as- 
sociation with Tim and Jack and other boys of their 
kind, would have afforded a clew had he been willing to 
take it ; but unmindful of all these things, it was with 
a light heart that he transferred all his possessions on 
the following day to Jack’s room in East Hall. 

For a time he was thoroughly happy there. The 
richer furnishings of the room, the fact that all the 


188 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


care of it was taken by the colored man whom many 
of the boys in East Hall employed, the constant good- 
nature of Jack, whom he came to like more and more, 
all seemed to fit in exactly with his desires, and he was 
more than content in his new surroundings. 

For a time he worked faithfully at his lessons, and 
regained his standing in the class, but it was only for a 
time. The easy-going ways of his new room-mate and 
the general tone of life among the East Hall boys 
soon began to assert themselves, and Ward’s work once 
more began to slip back. He was having a “good 
time,” and the better things were neglected, if indeed 
they were not forgotten. 

Mr. Crane occasionally had spoken a few words of 
encouragement and several interviews had taken place 
in his room, but soon Ward began to avoid him. Per- 
haps his own conscience was not quiet, and he realized 
that he was disappointing the teacher whom he respected 
more than any other in the school ; but as he more and 
more neglected his work, he was at greater pains to 
avoid a meeting with Mr. Crane. Sometimes he 
thought he could detect a feeling of great disappoint- 
ment in Mr. Crane’s manner, but as he did not venture 
to say much to him now, he was more than content to 
have him keep away. 

Ward began to rebel more and more against the fact 
that he was compelled to take his meals at the dining 
hall. He was saluted by warning cries to “ beware of 
the veal” whenever he started toward the “hash 
house” and left his more fortunate companions who 
boarded at “ Ma ” Perrins’ or at some other of the so- 


m EAST HALL 


189 


called better places. He was cramped for money too. 
The East Hall boys seemed to him to have an abun- 
dance, and once or twice he ventured to send home for 
more ; and when the reply came that they were doing 
all in their power for him now, he would feel ashamed 
for a time, knowing full well all the sacrifice his family 
were making for him. But this feeling did not last 
long. Gradually Ward was becoming more reckless, 
more careless, and more dissatisfied with himself and 
with his lot in life. He did not realize that he was 
taking the surest course to remain in it instead of 
fitting himself to rise out of and above it. 

He was still popular with the boys, and his friends 
increased in number and in their regard for him ; but 
they were not the boys whom deep down in his heart he 
most respected and whose good opinion he most desired. 
Ned Butler and Henry had become closer and warmer 
friends, but they now were seldom in Jack’s room. 

Pond, who had special reasons for liking Jack, was 
a frequent caller, and none of the boys seemed to care 
or think for a moment of his lack of money. He 
never made any apologies, and never complained ; but 
no one in all the school was better liked, and Ward 
knew there was no one who was more deeply respected. 

The cold weather soon came and the outdoor sports 
ceased. It was the portion of the year when the 
hardest and best work could be done, and many were 
working hard; but the growing carelessness of Ward 
was not checked, and his course still was steadily down- 
ward. 

In Mr. Blake’s classes he had come to use all the 


190 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


methods which certain of the boys employed to avoid 
work. He was doing things now which he would 
have regarded as dishonest when he first came to Wes- 
ton, and doing them too as a matter of course. In- 
deed he often boasted of his success, and felt a certain 
kind of pride in the fact that many of the East Hall 
boys daily sought his aid, Jack Hobart indeed almost 
relying upon him. 

One evening before study hour, after Ward had 
been rooming with Jack about a month, in response to 
the summons to “Come in, what are you standing 
out there for ? ’ ’ which had followed a loud rap upon 
the door, in walked Big Smith. 

“ Hello, Big Smith. Take a chair. You’re quite 
a stranger. Glad to see you. How are you ? ’ ’ 

1 ‘ I am well, ’ ’ replied their visitor in his most 
solemn tones; “ that is, I am well physically, but I am 
troubled in soul. Last night I couldn’t sleep much. 
Don’t I look worn and weary? ” 

“I hadn’t noticed it,” said Jack with a laugh. 
“How’s his appetite, Ward? Can he store away the 
veal, or has he eschewed all that sort of thing? ” 

“No, I feed upon it still,” said Big Smith; “but, 
Speck, I felt moved to come and see you. I did indeed. 
I have felt so often, and now I’ve come. I feel it to 
be my duty.” 

“ Speak up. Don’t be afraid. Take the load off 
your mind, my poor dying friend. What is it ? ” 

“ I have noticed,” continued Big Smith solemnly, 
“ your great generosity. I heard of the gift you made 
to Pond. I say nothing against him.” 


IN EAST HALL 


191 


“ You’d better not here,” responded Jack. “ Pond’s 
the fellow we swear by, isn’t he, Ward ? ” 

Ward nodded his head, but said nothing, and Big 
Smith continued: “Yes, I noted your kindness to 
i Pond, and then I saw how you took Ward in, and are 
caring for him. I don’t know whether you are clothing 
him as well as giving him a room, but I have noted that 
you care for the unfortunate and the lowly. Now I 
have no great ambition myself. I receive aid too.” 

Big Smith sat twirling his thumbs and gazing calmly 
up at the ceiling. Consequently he did not see the 
flush of anger and shame that came like a flash on 
Ward’s face, but Jack saw it, and full of sympathy for 
his friend, he said : “ What is it you want, Big Smith? 
Do you want me to take up a collection for you ? Is 
that it ? 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” replied Big Smith, 
his eyes glistening ; ‘ 1 doubtless for a worthy young 
man you might secure something from among the 
boys of East Hall. It would be thankfully accepted, 
I can assure you. Still, that was not what I had in 
mind. I didn’t know but you personally might feel in- 
clined to aid me. When I think of my brilliant future, 
and how in my mind’s eye I already can see the multi- 
tudes hanging on my words, I am eager to get into the 
work at once. Unfortunately the men of the Board re- 
quire me to remain here for a season. And if I remain I 
must eat, and if I eat I must pay for it, for I am honest, 
and if I remain to eat, and pay for what I eat, where 
am I to get the money ? That is the problem of my 
life just now.” 


192 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Big Smith seemed to be swelling out with pride over 
his oratorical effort. Poor W ard could say nothing ; he 
sat still, his face showing a look of disgust strongly 
stamped upon it. 

Jack laughed, for he heartily enjoyed the scene. “ Of 
course you’ll have to eat, Big Smith. You never can 
get along without eating. May I recommend a diet ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said the visitor, but his calm smile was gone ; 
“ I didn’t — that is — yes — what do you mean ? ” 

“ Humble pie, did you ever try it.” 

“ Never,” said Big Smith rising quietly ; “I didn’t 
come here to be insulted. I was all sincere, and as 
you’d helped other fellows I didn’t know but you’d 
help me,” and he turned to leave the room. 

“ Hold on, Big Smith,” called Jack ; “ I’ll see what 
I’ve got. Sit down a bit. I’ll see what I can do for 
you.” Big Smith sat down and Jack w T ent quickly into 
his bedroom and returned with his purse in his hand. 
“I’ve got just exactly one dollar and fifty -nine cents 
here. That won’t do you much good, I fear.” 

“It’ll help ! It’ll help! ” said Big Smith, smiling 
once more benignantly. 

“I’ll tell you what,” continued Jack; “Sawyer 
owes me a dollar and Hoff owes me another ; you go 
over to your room and I’ll bring it right over.” 

“All right,” said Big Smith ; “I shall be glad to 
see you in my room. I shall be expecting you,” he 
added as he left the room. 

‘ * W ard, I’ve the biggest thing I’m going to try on that 
fellow. It’s rich ! ” and Jack slapped his sides in high 
glee. “ Don’t look so glum, Ward. Just listen while 


IN EAST HALL 


193 


I explain. Since Tim’s been gone the. school’s been 
like a funeral. This is what I’m going to do,” and as 
soon as Jack had explained his project to Ward, both 
boys left the room and ran swiftly toward West Hall. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE CANNON BALL 

W ARD had followed Jack without fully understand- 
ing what his project was to he, but he had 
heard enough to make him eager to have a share in the ■ 
plan, whatever it was ; and in a brief time they had made 
their way up the winding stairway of West Hall, and 
stood for a moment before the door of Big Smith’s room. 

How strange it all was, W ard thought, as he glanced 
about the hallway. The same rough floor and battered 
walls he had seen when he had first entered the school, . 
there was the same air of age and hard usage manifest 
on every side, but how different it all seemed now in 
contrast with the richer furnishings of East Hall. And 
soon he would have to return to it. He wished Tim 
would not come back again. And yet he was con- 1 
scious of a feeling of shame when he thought of Big 
Smith’s words, and how he had classed him with others 
who had willingly taken of the aid which Jack in his 
easy-going generosity had scattered freely on any one 
who was willing to receive it. Was that the way in 
which the school regarded him? He rebelled at the 
thought, and yet was it not true after all? Was he 
not receiving from Jack that which he knew he could 
not repay ? 

These thoughts were passing swiftly through Ward’s 
194 


THE CANNON BALL 


195 


mind while he and Jack stood waiting before Big 
Smith’s door ; but he was not thinking of the greatest 
harm of all, and that was that he was being led on into 
evil ways by the easy-going habits of Jack, and that he 
could utter no protest because of the very position he 
held. Indeed to Jack, accustomed to take a light view 
of life, and without the careful home training which 
Ward had had from his earliest boyhood, these things 
were in a measure a matter of course, while to Ward 
they furnished greater danger, because they were ways 
into which he entered against the protests of his own 
conscience, and were not harmless ends, but only the 
beginnings of greater things. 

Already, although he would not acknowledge it to 
himself, his conscience was not so sensitive as once it 
had been, and while he knew he was doing wrong, he 
tried to make himself indifferent to it all, and whenever 
he felt that he had done wrong, and remorse began to 
trouble him, he rushed on all the more recklessly be- 
cause he was afraid to stop and think. Poor Ward ! 
He was not the same eager, happy, light-hearted lad 
who had run up those same steep stairways only a few 
weeks before. 

To his relief the door was soon opened, and Little 
Smith bade them enter, although his face partially ex- 
pressed his surprise at a visit from these East Hall boys. 
Little Smith, so called to distinguish him from his 
brother, still in many ways bore a striking resemblance 
to Big Smith. His features were like his brother’s, and 
his voice was of the same heavy tone, although it had 
not yet settled to the depth of the elder boy’s. Just 


196 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


now it was in that stage which Thackeray has described 
as somewhere ‘ £ between an unearthly treble and a pre- 
ternatural bass,” but he lived in hopes of developing, 
by the aid of reading hymns and frequent practice in 
the woods about Weston, a tone as deep as that which 
his brother possessed, and which was to him the ideal 
of the human voice divine. 

“My brother isn’t in,” said Little Smith as soon as 
his visitors were seated. “ I thought he had gone over 
to your room,” and he looked at Jack questioningly 
as he spoke. 

“Oh I knew he wasn’t in,” replied Jack; “he’s 
been over to my room. In fact we just left him there. 
I came over to get the cannon ball. You keep it here, 
I think.” 

* ‘ Did he tell you it was in our room ? ’ ’ asked Little 
Smith in surprise. 

“ Oh yes — that is, we knew it was here. Trot it out, 
my dear, I want to see it,” said Jack. 

Thus bidden, Little Smith entered his bedroom and 
returned with the heavy ball in his hands. Jack took 
it eagerly and then said : “ I expect this old fellow could 
tell some great stories if it could only speak. There’s 
a tradition that it was used in the French and Indian 
wars, and later that it spoke its piece in the Revolution. 
I don’t believe it ever knew it would come up to Weston 
to be educated. I tell you an educated cannon ball’s 
a great thing. ’ ’ 

Ward laughed and said : “ How comes it then that 
it’s left here to be knocked around ? ” 

“Thereby hangs a tale,” replied Jack. “It used 


THE CANXON BALL 


197 


to be kept up in the museum, but somehow it found its 
way into one of the fellows’ rooms, and then very soon it 
got into bad ways. It didn’t seem to be satisfied to stay 
there, but every chance it got, it would scoot out, and 
then the first thing you knew it would be bumping and 
rolling down the stairs.” 

“ How does it happen that it’s in West Hall instead 
of being in East ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, you’ll have to ask Mr. Crane about that. 
Somehow he objects to having it there, and the fellows 
don’t dare to fool with him very much. No, West 
Hall’s the place for it.” 

“It’s bothered Mr. Blake a good deal,” said Little 
Smith soberly. “ Some of the bad boys rolled it down 
the stairs in study hours. Of course Mr Blake had to 
get it and he kept it hidden in his room. But the same 
boys, at least I suppose they were the same, would get 
into his room and steal it out, and then the first thing 
Mr. Blake knew it would come thundering down the 
stairs again. Once or twice I thought the whole hall 
had fallen in. ’ ’ 

“ I shouldn’t think you’d dare to be found with it 
in your room then,” said Jack soberly. 

“We shouldn’t, only Mr. Blake asked my brother 
to keep it here and not let any one know we had it. 
I should think he’d better take it out and bury it. 
Then it wouldn’t make any trouble.” 

“ Oh, there’s no use in that,” laughed Jack ; “ that’s 
been tried lots of times. Somehow it’s always dug up 
and finds its way back. I believe they’ve shipped it 
out of town, given it to other schools, and even sent it 


198 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


to the heathen, but it just can’t tear itself away from 
Weston, and always shows up at the beginning of the 
school year. Some rash unbelievers have said, I under- 
stand, that it isn’t always the same ball ; but that can’t 
be,” and Jack winked slowly at Ward as he spoke. 
“ And now,” he added, “ after everything else has been 
tried and failed, it’s been committed to the care of Big 
and Little Smith. It’s perfectly safe here ; there’s no 
doubt about that.” 

“ I think that’s so,” replied Little Smith, “ though I 
don’t understand why my brother told you about it.” 

“That’s all right,” and Jack laughed; “I came 
with a purpose. I’m just going to fix that ball this 
time. I’m going to make it warm for it, so to speak.” 
and quickly lifting it, he tossed it into the stove, the 
door of which stood open. 

“ What did you do that for? ” said Little Smith ; 
“my brother won’t like it, I know.” 

“Oh, yes, he will ,- make yourself easy about that. 
Little Smith, are you going to be the valedic of the 
class ? ” he added to turn the course of the conversa- 
tion. 

“I don’t know. I hardly think so. My brother 
may be, but I don’t believe I shall.” 

“ That’s very good of you to give way to him, I’m 
sure,” replied Jack. “Don’t you think he’ll be back 
pretty soon.” 

“ Yes, he may be coming now. I hear somebody in 
the hall,” and Little Smith went out of the room to see 
who the new-comer was. Ward followed him and re- 
turned in a moment to say. ‘ ‘ It’s all right, Jack. It’s 


THE CANNON BALL 


199 


a good time. There’s nobody in the way, and we’d 
better send it now. I’ll help you.” 

Ward took the tongs and Jack the coal shovel, and 
by their combined efforts the ball was rolled out of the 
stove and fell upon the floor. It was intensely hot, but 
there was no glow upon it, and nothing to show that it 
had been near the fire. And yet it charred the floor of 
the room, for the Smiths had no carpet, and the boys, 
using the tongs and shovel as aids, quickly rolled it out 
into the hall to the stairway, and then with one sudden 
push sent it, rolling down the steps. 

There was no one in sight when they started it on its 
course, but as it went thundering on its way, gather- 
ing added force with each fall, its noise increased, and 
in a moment the startled students rushed from their 
rooms to see what the disturbance meant, and the halls 
almost seemed to be filled with boys. 

On went the ball and at last came up sharply against 
the closed door on the first floor with a report that in- 
dicated that again the door had given way before the 
assault. Ward and Jack rushed down the hall on the 
first floor just as Mr. Blake came out of his room. 

1 * Stand back there, boys ! ’ ’ called out the teacher. 
“ I thought we had come to the end of this silly dis- 
turbance, but I shall have to take the ball again, I 
see.” 

Ward and Jack looked at each other meaningly, and 
then Mr. Blake, who was somewhat angry and very 
much in earnest, bent over to take the ball in his 
hands. He suddenly uttered a cry of pain and stepped 
quickly back just as Big Smith entered the hallway. 


200 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


His exclamation was not understood by any of the 
boys except Ward and Jack, and as Big Smith came 
in and looked wonderingly at the assembly, he quickly 
spied the ball and advanced to take it again. 

“ Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it, Smith,” said 
Mr. Blake warningly. 

“Why not? I’m not afraid,” and disregarding 
the teacher’s warning, Big Smith lifted the ball from 
the floor. In an instant he dropped it however, and 
began to dance about the hall, blowing upon his hands 
and screaming with the pain. “Oh my, oh my!” 
he shouted, “I’ve burned my hands! I’ve burned 
my hands ! Oh my ! Oh dear ! What shall I do ? 
What shall I do? I’ve burned myself. My hands 
are on fire ! ’ ’ 

Big Smith stopped for a moment and gazed ruefully 
at his suffering hands. “ Just look at ’em ! Just look 
at ’em ! Just see that, will you ? Just look at ’em ! Oh 
my ! Oh dear ! ” and as he held them up before the 
boys, who now were laughing and joining in the con- 
fusion, they could see that great blisters had appeared 
on both palms. Mr. Blake had said nothing, but his 
face clearly showed that he too was suffering. 

“It’s the meanest trick ever played in this school,” 
said one of the boys, sobered in a moment. “ There’s 
nothing smart about it. It’s a shame and disgrace to 
the school ! ’ ’ 

Others however were laughing at the plight of Big 
Smith and the teacher, and the confusion was increasing 
each moment. Little Smith had hurried down the 
stairs at the sounds his brother was making, and now 


THE CANNON BALL 


201 


approaching him said, “ What’s the trouble ? Oh, the 
poor boy ! ” he exclaimed a moment later as Big Smith 
held up his hands so that he could look upon the great 
blisters. It was a sight to stir the sympathies of any 
one with a grain of pity in his heart, and it was not 
long before almost all the boys were sympathizing 
with both Mr. Blake and Big Smith. 

“ How did it happen ? ” exclaimed Big Smith, look- 
ing ruefully again at the cannon ball which all now 
discreetly left in the place to which it had rolled. 

“ It’s time for us to be going,” whispered Ward to 
Jack. “We ought to be in East Hall right away.” 

“All right,” whispered Jack in reply. “Just 
hold on a bit,” and he boldly approached Big Smith, 
and in a voice of sympathy said, “Let me see, Big 
Smith.” 

The suffering boy held up his hands to Jack’s view, 
and looking angrily at him said: “ Oh, you feel dread- 
fully about it, don’t you ? Most as bad as I do, I 
guess. ’ ’ 

“I’m sorry for you,” replied Jack, slipping the bill 
into his hand which he had promised him a little time 
before in his room in East Hall. “ If there’s anything 
I can do for you call on me and let me know. Don’t 
be afraid. I’ll help you out if \ can.” 

Big Smith made no reply, and Ward and Jack who 
were near the door quickly stepped out, glad of the 
opportunity of escaping, as both felt that the trick had 
gone farther than they had planned. 

Quick as they were, however, they heard the voice of 
Little Smith as he shouted: “They’re the boys who 


202 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


did it, Mr. Blake. They heated the ball up in my 
room.” 

‘ ‘ In your room ! ’ ’ they heard Mr. Blake reply in 
surprise, but they did not wait to hear more, but 
rapidly walked over to East Hall, neither saying any- 
thing until they had entered their room, taken off their 
overcoats, and seated themselves at the table. 

The bell for study hour had now been rung, and 
Jack arose to reply to the rap of Mr. Crane, who 
visited each room to see that all the boys were at work. 

“ Well, Ward, we’re in for it this time,” said Jack 
soberly, as he took his place again at the table. 

“I suppose so,” replied Ward gloomily. “It’s 
that little sneak Little Smith who’s done it.” 

“No, we’re the ones who did it,” said Jack. 
“ Honest though, I’d no idea of peeling their hands 
as I did. My, but Big Smith did ki-yi, didn’t he ? 
He’ll never need to take any more voice lessons. He 
can strike high C now, and not half try.” 

“I’m sorry we did it,” said Ward thoughtfully, 
after a moment’s silence. 

“ Sorry you did it, or sorry you got found out, 
Ward?” Jack laughed and Ward smiled at the 
words, for he realized their meaning in full. “Oh 
well, cheer up, old fellow. It isn’t the first scrape I’ve 
been in, and no one’s ever heard me whine about being 
caught either.” 

“It’s the first one I’ve been in,” replied Ward. 
“You’ll have to acknowledge that.” 

“ Oh no, it’s the first one you’ve been found out in. 
There’s a big difference let me tell you. But never 


THE CANNON BALL 


203 


mind, Ward, it can’t be helped now. No use in crying 
over it.” 

“ I suppose not,” replied Ward, feeling strangely 
like crying however. 

What would Mr. Crane and Dr. Gray think of him 
now ? And yet if he had known it, it was his pride 
more than his sense of right which was hurt, as Jack 
had hinted. Visions of being sent home in disgrace 
rose before him, and he could already see the grief of 
his father and mother as he came back to the old home. 

“ Come in,” called Jack suddenly in response to a 
rap on the door. “ Oh, it’s you, is it? ” he added, as 
Little Smith came in and held out a letter for Jack to 
take. 

“ That’s for you,” he said, and turned abruptly and 
left the room. 

“Well, it’s an invitation from the doctor,” said 
Jack, trying to smile when he had read the letter. 

‘ ‘ He wants to see us at once, and upon the whole, 
Ward, I think we’d better accept his invitation.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE LIMITS 

I T was with heavy hearts that Ward and Jack left 
their room and started toward Dr. Gray’s study. 
At least, Ward’s heart was heavy, but Jack seemed 
somehow to command his feelings, and in a measure re- 
ceived the good and ill alike that came to him. Few 
ever knew how much his apparent indifference concealed, 
for his manner seldom changed. He was the same 
easy-going, light-hearted lad to all. His good nature 
was proverbial in the school, and he often boasted that 
no one had ever seen him angry, or ‘‘whine,” as he 
himself expressed it. 

Since Ward had been rooming with him, however, 
he had concluded that Jack was one who made it a 
point in his life not to give way, whatever his feelings 
were; if he did well or was fortunate, he never boasted ; 
while if he fell into trouble, he did not complain. 

Ward looked at him curiously as they stood for a 
moment in the light before the door of the doctor’s 
study waiting for the response to their ringing of the 
door bell. For his part he was afraid, and he made 
no effort to conceal his fear, although he thought of 
the words of Jack when he had declared that it was not 
what he had done, but the discovery of it by the teachers 
which most troubled him. 


204 


THE LIMITS 


205 


He breathed heavily as he turned and glanced toward 
the academy. The lights in the many-windowed 
buildings seemed to keep company with the stars which 
j were peacefully shining overhead. The outlines of the 
mountains were clearly defined, and the patches of snow 
which now could be seen in many places upon their 
sides, gave them a strangely cold and ghostly appear- 
ance. There was no sympathy to be found there, and 
somehow he had the feeling too, that among the boys 
there was little help to be expected. They would all, 
or nearly all, feel that rolling a hot cannon ball down 
the stairs of West Hall was not the brightest thing in 
all the world. He could already see in his mind the 
|! look of anger or disgust which would appear upon Ned 
Butler’s face when he heard of the scrape, and as for 
!i Henry, why 

His thoughts were recalled in an instant to the situa- 
tion by the opening of the door by the servant, and the 
i boys were at once admitted into the doctor’s room. 
Jack seemed to be at ease and without any special dread 
of the interview, but Ward’s heart was beating rapidly. 

Dr. Gray quietly welcomed the boys, and motioned 
for them both to be seated. He at once began to speak 
of the trouble in West Hall, and they knew by the 
tones of his voice that he was deeply stirred and that 
he regarded the affair as no light one. 

“Dr. Gray,” said Jack quickly, “let me tell you 
about it before you go on. We did roll the cannon 
ball down the stairs, and it was hot too, but we had no 
thought of burning the hands either of Mr. Blake or 
Big Smith. We didn’t, honestly.” 


206 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


As Dr. Gray made no reply Jack continued, speak- 
ing eagerly and rapidly, “And, doctor, Ward didn’t 
have anything to do with it. I put the ball in the 
stove. Indeed I did, and Ward had nothing to do 
with it.” 

“Were you with him at the time, Hill?” asked 
the doctor interrupting Jack. “ Did you know what 
was to be done ? Did you help send it down the stairs ? 
Did you go over to West Hall knowing what Hobart 
was about to do ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” said Ward quietly. “I was as much 
to blame as Speck, I mean Jack, I mean Hobart.” 

“ It is as I thought, ’ ’ said the doctor quietly. ‘ ‘ I 
am disappointed, bitterly disappointed in you both. It 
was such a senseless, cruel thing to do. I do not doubt 
that neither of you intended to do any great harm, but 
you have done it, whether you intended or not. I am 
disappointed, I say, in you both. We expect a certain 
class of boys to get into a certain kind of scrape at 
about the same time every year. I don’t know why 
it is, but so it is. A new crop of lads comes up here 
every year. They may come from Maine or from 
California — it doesn’t seem to matter much. Some of 
them do the same old things that have been done here 
since the school began. The tricks are not new, not 
one of them, and it doesn’t take us long to know just 
the ones we must look after and just about what they 
will do and when they will do it. But I must say I 
had better thoughts of you. I did not expect you to 
be engaged in these silly, yes worse than silly — wicked 
deeds. How do you feel about it yourselves, boys ? ’ ’ 


THE LIMITS 


207 


“Well doctor, I don’t mind saying that I’m sorry 
Mr. Blake burned his hands. I am indeed,” said 
Jack quickly. “We didn’t intend to hurt him, only 
to make a racket, that was all.” 

“ That is, what you’re sorry for, as I understand you, 
Hobart, is not that you did the thing, but you’re sorry 
you were found out ! Is that it V ’ 

Jack and Ward glanced quickly at each other as 
they heard the words they themselves had used not 
long before, now spoken by the principal himself. 
The quick look did not escape the doctor’s notice, but 
without apparently heeding it, he said: “Well, boys, 
as you have been the transgressors, you’ll have to walk 
in the transgressors’ ways I fear. You will both of 
you be on the 4 limits ’ for the next three weeks. I 
trust that it may be the beginning of better things for 
you both. Good -night,” and as he arose from his 
chair, the boys also arose and started toward the door. 
“ Good-night, doctor,” they both said quietly, and the 
door was closed behind them. 

Ward knew from Dr. Gray’s manner that he was 
disappointed, grieved, and angry, and perhaps the 
knowledge in his own heart that he had given him oc- 
casion for all those feelings did not tend to soothe his 
own mind at the time. Neither of the boys spoke for 
a time as they walked slowly back to East Hall, for 
they both were busied with their own thoughts. 

The ‘ ‘ limits ’ ’ was an expression peculiar to the 
Weston school. When that sentence had been pro- 
nounced upon any boy, it meant that during the period 
named he was not to be allowed to leave the school 


208 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


grounds for any purpose or at any time ; nor was lie 
to enter any building besides that in which he roomed, 
except for recitations and necessary purposes. 

Furthermore, if within that period he was detected 
in any disturbance or disorder, suspension or expulsion 
would at once follow, the sentence depending somewhat 
upon the nature of the offense. It was a serious pun- 
ishment and both boys knew what it meant. 

“ Banished from West Hall and Big Smith’s room ! 
Banished from Blake’s company and presence ! Ban- 
ished ! What’s banished but set free ? ’ ’ said Jack 
after they had returned to their room. He was striv- 
ing to imitate Big Smith’s tones and to appear as if he 
were not cast down, but as Ward made no response, he 
soon took his books and apparently was busied in study- 
ing them. 

Ward however could not study. It was his first 
open punishment, and he felt the disgrace keenly. All 
the boys would know it to-morrow, and he somehow 
felt that he would not receive much sympathy. 
Already he was being classed with Tim and the East 
Hall boys, and his standing in the school had fallen 
rapidly. Mr. Crane, although he was still kind and 
attentive, showed very plainly his disappointment in 
him, and Ward sought to avoid him. 

It was not much studying he did that night, although 
he held his books in his hands until the bell for retiring 
was rung. He said little to Jack, and his room-mate 
soon seeing how he felt gave up all efforts at conver- 
sation. 

The next morning when Mr. Blake and Big Smith 


THE LIMITS 


209 


came into the chapel, their hands were bandaged, and 
they were the objects of many curious glances. The 
story already had spread through the school, and there 
were smiles on the faces of many of the boys as soon as 
they saw the two who had taken up the hot cannon ball 
on the preceding evening. 

Jack’s speckled face beamed benignantly upon all, 
and he seemed in nowise disturbed by the disgrace into 
j which he had fallen ; but W ard sat quietly in his place, 
seldom glancing about him during the opening exercises. 
Once looking behind him he saw Big Smith holding his 
I bandaged hands somewhat conspicuously before him and 
there was a smile upon his face which Ward could not 
understand. It might be the expression of a martyr, 
or it might be one of happiness and content. Perhaps 
j it was a combination of both. Ward sat in fear until 
j the service was ended. He had expected that Doctor 
Gray would make some reference to the trouble, but 
; the boys were dismissed and not a word concerning it 
had been spoken. Somewhat relieved, he passed out 
of the chapel, and as Henry came near there was an 
expression upon his face which annoyed him greatly. 
It was almost that of a sneer. But as Ned Butler came 
up he said quietly: “Never mind, Ward, it’s not so 
bad. You can straighten it all out before the term’s 
over. I know it’s in you and if you’ll just take hold 
you can lead every fellow in the school yet. We all 
know that.” 

Ward said nothing, but looked his thanks and with 
a lighter heart passed into the Latin room. The boys 
look curiously at him as he entered, some laughing and 
o 


210 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


some apparently haying no sympathy for him, but he 
said nothing and quietly took his seat. 

“ G. Smith you may begin the recitation,” said Mr. 
Crane as soon as the class was in order. 

“I can’t, Mr. Crane,” said Big Smith, rising and 
looking about the room. 

“That will do. Hobart, you may begin then,” 
said the teacher. 

“Mr. Crane, I know the lesson,” interrupted Big 
Smith. “ I know it perfectly ; but my hands cannot 
hold a book. Don’t you see ? ” and he held his ban- 
daged hands up to the view of all. 

‘ * Come to the desk and rest your book on that, ’ 9 said 
Mr. Crane quietly, checking the laugh which followed 
the display of Big Smith’s hands. 

“We’ll fix him yet,” whispered Jack. “What a 
baby ! He beats every one in the school.” 

The failure which Ward made when he was called 
upon to recite, increased his feeling of bitterness. What 
was the use in his trying to do anything ? Even if he 
wanted to do better, no one would believe him. And 
blaming every one except the one most to blame, Ward 
left the room when the recitation was ended. 

The three weeks which followed were trying ones for 
him. Jack took his punishment good-naturedly and as 
a matter of course, but it was different with Ward. 
His conscience would not let him rest, and yet he would 
not give himself to his work. Day after day he be- 
came more careless, more indifferent. Occasionally he 
would enter a class well prepared and recite in a 
manner which clearly showed what he could do if he 


THE LIMITS 


211 


would only exert himself ; but these days were rare and 
in the main he steadily dropped lower and lower. 

Both he and Jack were careful not to do anything to 
bring a heavier punishment upon them, and they were 
eagerly waiting for the time to come when the 4 4 limits ’ ’ 
would be over and again they would be free. 

Ward found during these days that he was drawn 
more and more to certain of the East Hall boys and 
that they at least did not think less of him for the dis- 
grace into which he had fallen ; but he knew these 
were not the students whose good opinion he most valued, 
and this very tendency to look upon him as a good fel- 
low drove him from the others and drew him more 
closely to them. Henry had little to say to him. Pond 
was as cordial as ever, although Ward knew he did not 
approve of his course, and Ned Butler took especial 
pains to let him know that he was still his friend. 

The three weeks were gone when Jack entered the 
room one day with an open letter in his hand. 4 4 W ard, ’ ’ 
said he, 44 I’ve just got a letter from Tim.” 

4 4 Is he coming back now ? ’ ’ asked W ard quickly, 
aware that his room-mate was hesitating. 

44 Yes, ” said Jack. 44 He’ll be here to-morrow. He’s 
coming up so as to be here for the term examinations. ’ ’ 

44 I’ll go back to West Hall then to-day,” said Ward 
gloomily. 

44 I’m awfully sorry. I’d a good deal rather room 
with you than Tim. Maybe we can fix it before the 
year’s over. Anyway, we can fix it for next year.” 

Ward made no reply, but at once collected his few 
belongings and soon was in his old room in West Hall. 


212 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Henry said nothing as he entered, and Ward was in no 
mood to talk. He wished he had never left West Hall, 
it was so much harder to come back after having had 
an experience in East. But it couldn’t be helped now. 
He must make the best of it. He busied himself in 
arranging his bedroom and w T hen he entered the study 
room Henry said quietly : 

“ Ward, you can room alone here next term.” 

‘ £ What ! ’ ’ said W ard quickly, “I’m not good enough 
for you, am I? All right, I can stand it.” 

“ That’s not it ; Ned Butler wants me to room with 
him.” 

Then Henry was to have a good room and he had to 
come back to West ! Ward felt angry although he 
knew he had no just cause, but he said nothing more, 
and apparently busied himself in his work. 

The next day Tim returned and was welcomed by the 
boys, or rather by some of them, with many expressions 
of pleasure. His arm was still carried in a sling and 
his face showed traces of his illness, but otherwise he 
was the same Tim as of old. 

The following night, before study hour, Tim and Jack 
came over to Ward’s room. He was alone and received 
them eagerly. They were his friends now and he would 
show them that he appreciated their kindness. ‘ ‘ W ard, ’ ’ 
said Jack, “we want you to join the ‘Tangs.’ Will 
you do it ? It’s a great honor, let me tell you, to get such 
an invitation. Not many fellows ever get the chance.” 

Ward hesitated a moment and then said, “Yes, 
Speck, I’ll join,” and the decision was made. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


AN ANCIENT AND VENERABLE ORDER 

“ TITE’LL have the initiation next Saturday night,” 
▼ » said Tim, when at last the conversation was 
over, and the boys turned to leave the room. 

“All right,” replied Ward. “I don’t know that 
it makes any difference to me when you have it. ’ ’ 
Alone in his room now, W ard sat for some time silent 
and thoughtful. He did not know just who or what the 
“ Tangs ” were, but they stood for the most disorderly 
element in the school, of that much he was well aware. 
And now by his own consent he was about to cast in 
his lot with them. He had not gone so far that his 
conscience ceased to trouble him, and there were mo- 
ments when he almost decided to retract his promise. 
Mr. Crane had assured him that he could be one of the 
leaders of the class, and why should he not be? It 
was his own fault that he was doing as he did, and he 
had no one to blame but himself. 

“I don’t care,” he said to himself at last. “The 
fellows don’t give me a fair show. Here’s Henry, he’s 
got so he tries to look down upon me ; and there’s Xed 
Butler, he won’t have much to do with me either.” 

Ward knew the words were not true, for no one in 
the school had been more friendly when he had entered 
than had Ned Butler himself. Ward thought again of 

213 


214 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Ned’s words that the only safe course for a new fellow 
was to have a decided “yes” or “ no ” at the very 
start, and in that way save himself from all danger of 
drifting with the crowd. 

There was no one in the school Ward respected more 
than he did Ned Butler and Pond, and as he realized 
that the very boys with whom he had promised to cast 
in his lot, looked up to them as they did not to himself, 
in spite of all their friendly words, his heart became a 
little more bitter still. “I’ll get what fun I can out 
of it, anyway, and I guess I’ll come out all right in the 
end. ’ ’ 

The next day when Ned Butler sought him out and 
invited him to his room to have, as he said, a square talk 
with him, Ward’s determination to join the “ Tangs” 
was almost shaken. He was positive that Ned could 
know nothing of his invitation to join them, and yet if 
he had known, his words could hardly have been more 
fitly spoken. Without the least effort to “ talk down ’ ’ 
to Ward, he told him how sorry he was that he was 
slipping back in his work and standing in the school. 
He seemed to know just how Ward felt too, but instead 
of reproaching him, he had only words of encourage- 
ment and cheer. 

“You can do it, Ward,” he said, when his visitor 
rose to leave ; “I know you can, and so does every 
fellow in the school. All you need, Ward, is just to 
shake yourself together, and take a good firm hold. 
You remember w^hat I said the first night you were 
here, about a decided ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ don’t you? 
Well, it isn’t too late yet. It isn’t always easy, but it 


AN ANCIENT AND VENERABLE ORDER 215 


can be done. I know, for I’ve tried it myself. And 
when you think of what you can do, and what I know 
the folks at Rockford are expecting you to do, it’s worth 
a trial, I’m sure. And, Ward, I’m not trying to preach 
either. I’m only an older brother, and trying to show 
you something I’ve learned from my own mistakes.” 

Ward made no reply, and Ned holding out his hand 
said, “ Can’t you do it, old fellow? ” 

* 4 I’ll see about it,” said Ward quietly, and left the 
room. There was a tumult in his heart. He knew, 
if he promised to do as Ned wanted, it would mean a 
break with Jack and Tim, and yet was it not worth 
trying? If he should begin to work hard again, he 
could gain their respect, anyway, even if he did lose 
their friendship ; and then too, there was the satisfac- 
tion he would have himself in doing his best. How 
proud his father and mother would be, if he should lead 
the class. His eyes grew soft as he thought of them, 
and he was just on the point of deciding to do as Ned 
wanted him to, when he met Jack and Tim on the 
campus. 

“We’re counting on you sure for Saturday night,” 
said Tim. “ It’ll be a great lark, let me tell you.” 

“Yes, Ward, you’ll have more fun to the square 
inch than you ever have had in your life. The ‘ Tangs ’ 
aren’t digs or grinds, but they manage to get all there 
is to be had out of the school,” said Jack. “I was 
somehow half afraid you wouldn’t come in, but after you 
promised I knew that was all over. We’ll be around 
for you soon after supper, Saturday night.” 

“ All right,” replied Ward soberly, as he passed on. 


216 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


The word had not been spoken, and he had left the im- 
pression that he was still ready to join the “ Tangs.” 
He was not happy, and felt as if he w T as all w r ound up 
by cords which he could not break. “ It’s all right for 
Ned Butler,” he thought as he walked on. “ He has 
plenty of money, and is sure of a good time anyway. 
If he knew how I felt, he wouldn’t talk as he does. I 
could do right too, if I was fixed as he is. ’ ’ 

He knew his words were not true, for had he not 
himself heard Ned say how hard it was for him to do 
right? And yet Ned tried, and he knew it was no 
easy struggle for him either. If he could only bring 
himself to say that little word “ no ” ! 

The following day was Saturday, and Ward was still 
undecided. He avoided Jack and Tim, and many 
times changed his purpose. Once he started for Jack’s 
room, determined to shake off* his indecision and do his 
best ; but he turned back and the struggle went on. 

Soon after supper that night, Jack and Tim appeared 
in his room. “ We’re all ready, Ward. Come on, 
the fellows are waiting,” said Jack. 

The last chance had come, and Ward yielded. He 
could not say “no,” and he arose and followed his 
companions. 

When they stood on the stone doorstep a moment, 
Jack and Tim looked quickly up and down the street, 
and then Tim said : 

“We’ll have to blindfold you, Ward.” 

“What for?” 

“Oh, that’s a part of the initiation. You needn’t be 
afraid, you won’t be hurt.” 


AN ANCIENT AND VENERABLE ORDER 217 

“ I’m not afraid,” replied Ward quietly, and the 
bandage was at once bound about his eyes. 

Then his companions, each grasping him by an arm, 
walked with him rapidly out of the village. 

On and on they led the way until it seemed to Ward 
they must have gone several miles, and not a word had 
been spoken. Several times they stopped and turned 
him quickly about and then resumed the march. 

At last he was bidden to climb a fence, and, assisted 
by Jack, he made his way over it, and then he knew 
from the unevenness of the ground that they were walk- 
ing across some lot. 

The air was cold and snow was on the ground in 
places, and at last W ard broke out : ‘ ‘ How much 
longer is this tomfoolery going on ? I’m cold.” 

No reply was made, but in a few moments he was 
bidden to step up, and then realized that he was stand- 
ing on a floor of some kind. The journey had come to 
an end, and for a few minutes he was left standing alone. 

“ Remove the victim’s bandage,” said some one in a 
sepulchral tone, and Ward opened his eyes. He was 
standing on the floor of a barn, and about him were 
twelve figures disguised by sheets and masks. 

A loud shout greeted him when the bandage was re- 
moved, and the twelve figures joining hands began a 
weird kind of dance about him. Sometimes they closed 
in upon him, and he was pushed about from point to 
point ; and then again he was left standing in the 
center of the circle, which kept revolving swiftly about 
him. 

At last the motion ceased, and the twelve figures 


218 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


stood silent for three minutes. Not a word was spoken, 
and the dim light which came from the half-dozen lan- 
terns hung about the place, made the grotesque figures 
appear stranger than before. The eyes of all were 
steadily gazing at him, but Ward only laughed and 
said nothing. 

Finally one of the figures advanced within the circle, 
the others at once closing up so that no vacant place 
was left, and looking about upon the assembly, in a low 
solemn voice, said: “Are all the members of the 
ancient and venerable order of Orang-outangs here 
present ? ’ * 

“We are all here,” suddenly replied all together, 
and Ward was startled in spite of his efforts to be calm. 

* ‘ Is every one of the quadrumanous mammals in- 
habiting Weston here? ” said the speaker. 

“ No ! ” shouted all again suddenly in a tone that 
Ward thought could have been heard at Weston. 

“ How many are wanting? ” 

‘ ‘ One, ’ ’ came the answering shout. 

“ And who is it that is not here ? Who is the absent 
brother? ” 

“ Alas, it is the Lop-eared Roarer,” said one advanc- 
ing from the circle. 

“ Alas ! alas ! ” said all the assembly, joining hands 
once more and moving slowly and solemnly about in a 
circle. 

“And what has become of the brother, the Lop- 
eared Roarer ? ’ ’ said the one who had been spokesman 
before, advancing once more into the center when the 
procession halted. 


AN ANCIENT AND VENERABLE ORDER 219 

4 4 Alas, he has departed from our midst. He has 
entered college. Alas ! alas ! ” said the one who had 
replied before, again taking his place within the circle 
by the spokesman’s side. 

44 Is there any one fit to take the place of the de- 
parted Lop-eared Roarer? ” asked the other. 

44 There is, there is ! ” shouted all together. 

4 4 And who is it that is worthy to enter into the 
place of the departed Lop-eared Roarer? ” 

44 Ward Hill ! Ward Hill ! Ward Hill ! ” shouted 
the assembly together. 

44 And who vouches for his worthiness ? ” 

“We do,” said two of the masked figures, advanc- 
ing within the circle. 

44 The Frizzle-tailed Gorilla and the Cross-eyed 
Whangdoodle vouch for his worthiness,” said the 
leader. 44 Brothers, is this satisfactory to you all? 
If so, manifest it.” 

A shout followed his words and the speaker resumed : 
4 4 Is it your pleasure that he be tested further before he 
is accepted as one of us ? ” 

44 Let him be tested,” said all. 

44 And which test shall we apply? The major test, 
or the minor ? ’ ’ 

4 4 The minor, ’ ’ said most of the boys, although a 
few shouted for the 44 major.” The matter was put to 
a vote, and the 44 minors” had it by a small majority. 

4 4 Bring forward the candidate for the place of the 
departed Lop-eared Roarer, ’ ’ said the leader ; and the 
Frizzle -tailed Gorilla and the Cross-eyed Whangdoodle, 
whom Ward strongly suspected to be the boys whom 


220 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


he had known by the humble names of Jack and 
Tim, advanced and, grasping him by the arms, brought 
him before the leader. 

‘ 1 Have you the courage to become one of the ancient 
and venerable order of Orang-outangs ? ’ ’ said the leader 
to Ward, in a solemn voice. 

“ I think I have,” said Ward. 

“ He thinks he has,” groaned all the boys together. 

“ If you are admitted, do you promise not to reveal 
any of the secrets of the order ? ’ ’ 

“I do,” said Ward. 

“ He does,” groaned all the boys again. 

‘ 4 Do you promise to fulfill all the duties that may 
devolve upon you ? ’ * 

“Yes,” answered Ward. 

‘ ‘ He does, ’ ’ groaned the boys. 

‘ ‘ Do you promise to stand by all the members of this 
order in good report or ill, in sickness or health, in 

poverty or wealth, in — in ” the voice of the speaker 

failed. He had forgotten the rest of the oath of 
allegiance. 

“In thick or thin,” said one of the assembly, 
prompting the leader. 

“Yes, in thick or thin,” resumed the leader. “ Do 
you promise ? ” 

“ Yes, I’ll promise.” 

“ Yes, he promises,” groaned the boys together. 

“ Will you evanesce your own will and capitulate to 
the will of the order, whatever that may be ? ” 

“Yes, I’ll evanesce and capitulate,” replied Ward, 
laughing in spite of his efforts to be sober. 


AN ANCIENT AND VENERABLE ORDER 221 


“ He’ll evanesce and capitulate,” came the response 
from the assembly. 

‘ ‘ Are you fitted to become a member of this ancient 
and venerable order? ” 

“ I think so,” replied Ward. 

“ He thinks so,” shouted the boys. 

“You will have to prove it then by the minor test, 
according to the will of the order.” 

“ What’s that? ” inquired Ward. 

‘ ‘ Be silent, ’ ’ said the leader ; then turning to the 
two boys who still stood by Ward’s side he said : 

“ Can he leap as becomes a Lop-eared Koarer ? ” 

“He can,” replied the two boys. “He can,” 
echoed the assembly. 

‘ * Let him prove it by the minor test then, ’ ’ said the 
leader, and almost before he was aware of what he was 
doing Ward found himself on his hands and knees, and 
he was compelled to leap, as supposedly an ancient and 
venerable Orang-outang would have done, three times 
around the entire circle. 

‘ ‘ Is the test satisfactory ? ’ ’ asked the leader. 

“ It is, ” groaned the boys. 

“Can he climb as becomes a Lop-eared Roarer ? ” 
asked the leader. 

“He can,” replied the two boys. “He can.” 
groaned the assembly. 

‘ ‘ Let him prove it by the minor test, ’ ’ said the 
leader solemnly. And Ward was compelled to climb 
the post which supported one of the beams in the barn. 

“ Is it satisfactory ? ’ ’ said the leader. 

“ It is,” groaned the assembly. 


222 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


1 1 Can he hang ? ’ ’ asked the leader. 

“He can,” replied the two boys. “He can,” 
groaned the assembly. 

“Let him prove it by the minor test,” said the 
leader, and Ward, once more climbing the post, was 
compelled to hang from the cross-beam as long as he 
was able. At last, when he could hang on no longer, 
he dropped and was caught in a horse-blanket held by a 
half-dozen of the sheeted boys, the leader counting out 
the seconds during the trial in a loud and solemn voice. 

“ Is it satisfactory ? ’ ’ 

“It is,” replied the united voices. 

“ Can he endure ? ” again asked the leader. 

“He can,” replied the two boys. “He can,” 
groaned the assembly. 

* Let him prove it by the minor test. ’ ’ 

Ward’s arm was bared and a small “ o. O.” was 
pricked into it with red ink. 

“ Is it satisfactory ? ” asked the leader. 

“ It is ; it is, ’ ’ replied the assembly. 

‘ ‘ Is there to be a feast ? ’ ’ inquired the leader. 

‘ ‘ There is, but later, Most W orshipful, ’ ’ replied one 
of the boys by Ward’s side. 

“ The Frizzle -tailed Gorilla replies that there is to be 
a feast, but later ; is it satisfactory ? ’ ’ 

“ It is, ” replied the boys ; but the words were not 
spoken very enthusiastically. 

‘ ‘ There remains but one test more, ’ ’ said the leader 
turning again to Ward. “ If you are able to meet that 
I pronounce you a member of the ancient and vener- 
able order of Orang-outangs, and by virtue of my 


AN ANCIENT AND VENERABLE ORDER 223 


office name you the Lop-eared Roarer. Can he hunt ?’ ’ 
he added, turning to the boys. 

“ He can,” replied the two by Ward’s side. “ He 
can,” groaned all together. 

4 ‘ Let him prove it by the minor test, ’ ’ said the 
leader. 

The bandage was again applied to Ward’s eyes, and 
he was led out of the barn. He was turned about and 
led in various directions. At last a voice whispered in 
his ear, ‘ * Count one thousand and then tear the ban- 
dage away, and return to Weston.” 

Ward counted, and when he tore away the bandage 
found that he was standing alone in a country road. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE START FOR HOME 


ARD soon realized that he was in a region with 



n which he was not in the least familiar. The 
night was dark, and the wind, as it swept down through 
the valley, was biting and cold. The dim outlines of 
the hills furnished him with no clue as to the direction 
in which Weston lay, and as he looked up and down 
the road, he could not decide in which direction he 
ought to go. 

Blindfolded as he had been, he could not recall any- 
thing to aid him in choosing his way, and yet as he 
looked at his watch and saw that only twenty -five min- 
utes remained before the bell for retiring would be rung 
at Weston, he knew that he must act, and act quickly. 

But in which direction should he go ? In sheer des- 
peration he started down the road, and had gone but a 
short distance before he saw a little farmhouse that 
stood by the roadside, and he decided to stop there and 
make inquiries. No lights were burning however, and 
he knew the occupants had in all probability been in 
bed for some time. Something must be done however, 
and turning into the yard, he approached the door and 
rapped loudly upon it. 

His summons was answered by the loud barking of a 
large dog which quickly approached from the barn and 


224 


THE START FOR HOME 


225 


stood growling near him, as if he were determined to 
find out what a visit at that time of night meant. 

A window was soon raised, and Ward heard a gruff 
voice above him saying, ‘ ‘ Who be ye ? What do 
you want ? It’s a pretty time to get folks out o’ bed. 
What do ye want, anyway ? ” 

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” replied Ward ; “but 
I’ve lost my way. I want to know where Weston is ? ” 
“ Weston ! Weston is it? Be ye one o’ them pesky 
students there? I’ll report ye to Dr. Gray. The 
idea o’ your bein’ out sech hours as these, and a dis- 
turbin’ peaceful folks too.” 

“ I’m very sorry,” said Ward again ; “ but if you’ll 
only tell me the direction, I’ll not trouble you any 
I further.” 

“Tell him, pa, tell him!” Ward heard a voice 
within the house exclaim, and then the old farmer, 

; leaning out of the window again, said : “ Wall, ye 
want to go up the road about a quarter of a mile, and 
then turn to yer left. Keep on then for a piece and 
turn to yer right, and then the next turn to yer left 
will take ye straight into the village. But I’ll report 
ye, I vum I will, the first chance I git.” 

Unmindful of his threats Ward ventured to ask one 
more question : “ How far is it to Weston ? ” 

“ It’s a good three mile and a half, that’s what it is. 
Here you, Carlo,” he added, speaking to the dog which 
advanced threateningly, when Ward, after a quick 
“ Thank you,” turned to leave. 

The dog slunk away, and Ward soon found himself 
on the rough road again. Once there, he began to run 
p 


226 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


swiftly. Three miles and a half to Weston ! He knew 
he must be late now, and yet he ran on and on, some- 
times feeling half afraid, so lonesome was the road and 
so dark was the night. His way led him through 
patches of woods, and the gloom was increased among 
their shadows. Sometimes he passed farmhouses, and 
the loud barking of the dogs warned him of other dan- 
gers that threatened him besides that of being too late 
to report in his room when the retiring bell rang. He 
stooped and selected a good-sized stick, and then pressed 
on more vigorously than before. 

When he made the last turn the old farmer had in- 
dicated, he recognized the new road at once. He had 
been over it many times, and now he felt sure of his 
way. Weston could not be very far distant, but a 
faint sound of a bell just then broke in upon the still- 
ness of the night. 

He stopped and listened. It was the bell for retiring, 
and he was barred out and was still far from the vil- 
lage. 

More leisurely now he walked on, for he was late 
anyway, and a few minutes more or less would not 
make much difference. The wind was rising, and a 
storm would soon be at hand. Already a few flakes of 
snow had fallen upon his upturned face, but it was only 
a faint token of the storm within his heart. Some- 
times he laughed when he thought of the ridiculous 
experiences through which he had recently passed, and 
then again he would become more sober when he real- 
ized that for good or ill, and probably for ill, he had 
cast in his lot with the boys who certainly did not rep- 


THE START FOR HOME 


227 


resent the best elements in the Weston school. What 
would his father think of it? How disappointed he 
would be, and how much he had counted upon Ward’s 
doing well. How proud he had been of his success and 
popularity in Rockford before he had gone away from 
home. And what a change had come over him in the 
few weeks he had been at Weston ! 

It all had come because he had neglected Ned 
Butler’s advice, and had not had courage enough to 
say “yes” or “no” at the very beginning. Ned 
Butler ! He might have helped him, and he had the 
rather chosen Henry for his friend. Again Ward’s 
heart became bitter, perhaps the more so because again 
the reflection came that he had no one to blame but 
himself. 

Well, he could get along without Ned Butler or 
Henry either. 

“Hello, Ward. You can hunt. You’re back al- 
most as soon as any of us.” It was Jack’s voice, and 
Ward who had been startled at first by the sudden hail, 
turned eagerly to his friend. 

“I’ve only been waiting about ten minutes for you,” 
said Jack. “I told the fellows you’d make good 
time.” 

“ Where are they ? ” 

1 1 Oh, they hurried back so as to be in before the 
bell rang, but they didn’t make it. They’ll all get a 
good number of marks ; but they’re tickled to pieces 
with you, Ward. We never had a fellow who went 
through the initiation as slick as you did. They’ll all 
bank on you now, Ward ; and you mark my words, 


228 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


you’ll have more fun than you ever had before in your 
life.” 

Ward made no reply, for he was hardly in the mood 
to appreciate Jack’s words. “You’ll be late too, 
Speck,” he said. “ What were you waiting here for ? ” 

“For you, my noble Lop-eared Roarer; and that 
makes me think. I’m to give you the grip and the 
password,” and he explained both carefully to the new 
member of the ancient and venerable order of Orang- 
outangs. 

“I’ll have to leave you now,” he said. “Mr. 
Crane gave me permission to spend the night with 
Monroe — he rooms down at Ma Perrins’, you know; so 
I’m all right. Good -night.” 

“ Good -night,” replied Ward, as he left his friend 
and started for West Hall. 

He slowly approached the door, wondering what ex- 
planation he could give to Mr. Blake for his being late. 
The lights appeared to be out in all the rooms. It 
must be nearly an hour after bedtime, and the great 
building seemed to frown upon him, as if it too shared 
in the displeasure at the belated condition of Ward 
Hill. 

To his surprise the outside door was locked. He did 
not dare to rattle it, and for a moment thought of run- 
ing after Jack and spending the night with him ; but 
his friend already had disappeared from sight, and 
perhaps now was within the house of “ Ma ” Perrins. 
No, he must try something else. 

He crept around to the side of the building and 
rapped gently upon the window of the room in which 


THE START FOR HOME 


229 


Coxe and McClure roomed. They were classmates of 
his, and their room was upon the first floor, opposite 
Mr. Blake’s. His first signal was not heard, but after 
a third attempt some one came to the window and 
gently raised it. 

“ Help me in, Coxe,” said Ward in a low voice; “ I 
got locked out. ’ ’ 

His classmate opened the window and in a moment 
Ward had clambered in. He took off his shoes, and 
carrying them in his hand passed through the door 
which Coxe quietly opened for him, and crept noise- 
lessly up the stairs. How guilty he felt. That was 
the way in which a thief might have stolen in. Several 
times he paused, thinking that the door of Mr. Blake’s 
room was opened. What a predicament for him to be 
found in ! But each time his fears were quieted, and 
at last he stood before the door of his own room. Tak- 
ing his key he softly unlocked it and entered. 

“ Fine time of the night for you to be crawling in,” 
called Henry from his bedroom. “I suppose you’ve 
been out with Tim Pickard or some other drunken 
rowdy.” 

“He’s not a prig, anyway,” replied Ward angrily. 
“He doesn’t stand up and thank the Lord he’s not 
like the other fellows. He’s not a hypocrite, whatever 
else he is.” 

“No, he’s the soul of honor,” sneered Henry. 
“I’m glad I’m going to change my room, that’s all I 
can say.” 

“You seem to be able to say some other things ; but 
I’m glad you’re going to change your room too.” 


230 


WAKD HILL AT WESTON 


The conversation ceased, and Ward was soon in bed, 
but it was a long time before he was asleep. He rolled 
and tossed, and the thoughts of his recent experiences 
kept passing through his mind. And he was honestly 
troubled by the gulf which was daily becoming wider 
between him and Henry. In his heart he loved and 
respected his room-mate, and knew that all the apparent 
unfriendliness was due to himself. Henry was so 
anxious for Ward to do well, knowing as he did his 
ability and also his impulsive disposition, that he 
showed it too plainly, but at the same time did not 
adopt the best manner either of restraining or en- 
couraging his chum. 

The next day was Sunday, and Ned Butler walked 
back from the church services with Ward and Henry. 
“I say, Ward,” he said, after the conversation had 
gone on for a time, “I’m awfully sorry you’ve given 
up going to the school prayer meeting. Somehow I 
feel as if you needed them as I do.” 

“Bother,” said Ward; “I don’t want to go over 
there and hear Big Smith spout ; he tires me. ’ ’ 

“Big Smith isn’t the only fellow there, Ward. 
There is Pond for example. I think he is one of the 
best and squarest fellows I ever knew. When he gets 
to be a preacher I’m going to vote to give him a call, 
that is, if Dr. Earle gives up by that time. ’ ’ 

“ Pond’s a good fellow,” replied Ward. “ There is 
no discount on him. Well, I’ll think about it.” 

“I wish you would, Ward. I don’t mean to preach ; 
I couldn’t if I would ; but I think you’d be helped. 
Do you know, I’m sometimes half afraid you’ll join the 


THE START FOR HOME 


231 


‘ Tangs ’ before you get through, and yet I know after 
all you wouldn’t go in with those fellows.” 

Ward flushed, but tried to turn the words aside as 
he laughed and said, “ I don’t think I shall join them. 
But what’s the matter with them, anyway? I can’t see 
much wrong for my part.” 

“Oh, there are some good-hearted fellows among 
them, I don’t deny that ; but they’re not your kind, 
Ward. They’re all fellows with money, and they don’t 
come from such homes as yours. You can’t do the 
things they do, without going straight against your own 
conscience.” 

The conversation was not altogether pleasing, and 
pleading some excuse Ward arose and left the room. 
He was satisfied that both the boys were talking about 
him when he was gone, and he knew they were troubled 
too ; but he had gone too far now to retreat, or so the 
troubled boy tried to assure himself. 

He soon found Jack, and the light-hearted boy at 
once banished all the good impressions Ned’s words had 
left. As they walked about the school grounds waiting 
for the dinner hour, Jack said : “Tim’s going to put 
off his spread till after vacation. He’ll make up for 
it then, Ward. I’m mighty glad you’re a full-fledged 
1 Tang ’ now. You’ll see some fun next term. ” 

“I hope so,” said Ward; “but just now I’m troubled 
about the examinations.” 

“Bother the exams,” replied Jack. “We’ve got 
it all fixed. We’ll get through, and you can too, if you 
want to.” 

‘ 4 How ? AY hat do you mean ? ’ ’ 


232 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Jack took from his pocket some little rolls of paper, 
bound with rubber, and showed W ard how they could 
be used. On them were written, in very small char- 
acters, the chief points in each study which had been 
covered during the term. “We’ll take these with the 
exams, and I rather guess we’ll pull through.” 

“I sha’n’t use them,” said Ward quickly. “It 
isn’t square.” 

“All right,” said his companion; “no compulsion. 
I guess it’s square enough. They all do it.” 

“ No, they don’t all do it,” replied Ward. “Ned 
Butler, and Pond, and Henry won’t, I know.” 

“ No, they won’t,” Jack said significantly. “ They 
won’t have a chance. There goes the bell, and we’ll 
go in and fill up now, Ward. Good luck to you.” 

Ward was troubled more than he realized by what 
Jack had said. It was to him a new phase of school 
life, but not yet had he brought himself to do anything 
which was directly dishonest, or so he tried to persuade 
himself. But Ward Hill was drifting, and no one ever 
yet drifted up the stream. Even Ward, could he have 
looked ahead, would have been shocked by what he 
saw. And it all turned upon the neglect of those little 
words ‘ ‘ yes ’ ’ and ‘ ‘ no. ’ ’ 

Ward worked faithfully during the three days of 
examination. He knew how important they were, and 
was doing his best to recover the lost ground ; but 
when they were over he was far from being satisfied 
with himself and what he had done, and looked for- 
ward to the reports which would be sent home with 
fear and trembling. 


THE START FOR HOME 


233 


At last the examinations were over, the last words of 
the doctor spoken, and the eager crowd of boys started 
in sleighs for Dorrfield to take the cars for home. A 
crowd of twenty-five accompanied Ward and Henry as 
far as the station where they were to take the cars that 
ran down the valley to Rockford. During the waiting 
time the boys walked up and down the long platform, 
eating the ‘ ‘ fried pies ’ ’ they purchased of the women 
who offered them for sale in the huge baskets they 
carried on their arms, and sang songs, and had such a 
time as only schoolboys, fresh from school, can have. 

The school cheer followed them as they at last boarded 
their train, and the final portion of their journey was 
begun. And what a welcome they received when at 
last they arrived at home — such warm words and ex- 
pressions of tender love. 

Ward’s heart sank when he thought of those com- 
ing reports. He again and again related the incidents 
and stories of his school life, of which his father never 
seemed to tire ; but his fear did not depart. 

On the second day after his return he entered the 
post office of the little village and received his father’s 
mail. There were two letters with the postmark 
4 ‘Weston.” One doubtless was his report, but what 
could the other be ? He thought he recognized Mr. 
Crane’s handwriting, and with a heavy heart he went 
back to his home, and without a word handed both 
letters to his father. 


CHAPTER XXV 


VACATION 


ARD watched his father anxiously as he opened 



vv the letters. He had no reason to hope for a 
good record. He had not earned it, and did not de- 
serve it ; but still he was hoping it would somehow not 
be so bad as he feared. 

The first of the envelopes contained the form which 
Ward knew at once was the record of his work. His 
father read it carefully, and then holding it for a mo- 
ment in his hand, seemed to be looking far away. He 
started to lay it upon the table, but changing his pur- 
pose handed it without a word to Ward, who received 
it with a trembling hand. After the name of each 
study was the word “ Fair.” It was not so bad as he 
feared, although he knew that his father must be 
bitterly disappointed. He knew that his good work in 
the early part of the term doubtless had raised his 
marks somewhat, and he was glad that he had done 
that much, anyway ; but his attention was at once 
diverted when he looked again at his father who had 
opened and was now reading the second letter. Ward 
could see that there was a softened expression upon his 
face, and once there was a look of pride ; but he read 
the letter through without saying a word, and then 
handed it to him. Ward took the letter and read it. 


234 


VACATION 


235 


My Dear Mr. Hill : 

I cannot refrain from writing you a personal letter, as 
I send you by this mail the first report of your son Ward 
in the Weston school. He is such a bright lad, so 
popular with his mates and teachers, so promising in 
his ability, that he has won the hearts of us all. But 
I must not let these facts blind me to the true condi- 
tion. While in his natural ability he easily stands 
among the foremost of the school, and I am satisfied 
could be the leader in his own class, he has not shown 
that careful attention to his work which it, and the 
school, demand. We ought not to rest content that a 
boy who can do “good” and perhaps “excellent” 
work, should stand only ‘ ‘ fair ’ ’ in all his classes. 
There are three or four things he sadly lacks, and I 
have thought that together, you and I, might labor to 
supply them. 

First of all he lacks decision of character. His im- 
pulsiveness, which makes him popular, also makes him 
fickle and unstable. He does not decide and then hold 
steadily to his decision. He is swayed too much by his 
feelings. 

In the second place, he trusts too much to the quick- 
ness of his mind. He has not learned how to work, 
nor has he learned the necessity of it as yet. 

Then too he is weak in that he fears too much the 
opinions of his mates. 

He is more afraid of what they will think than he is 
of doing wrong. His very popularity is one of his 
greatest dangers. 

And last of all, I must say that I have been disap- 
pointed in his religious life. Perhaps I have expected 
too much from him. His work in my Bible class has 
shown me, far more than he realizes, the careful training 
he has received at home. But he neglects all that is 


236 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


not absolutely required of him, and I fear his closest 
associates in the school have not been those who would 
aid him most. 

Believe me, my dear Mr. Hill, I have written this 
letter just for Ward’s sake. He is such a promising 
lad that I cannot bear to see him throw aside any of 
the promise. My sole purpose is to aid him and you ; 
and I shall be pleased to have you write me of any- 
thing, and at any time, that will help us to help him. 

With cordial regards to Ward, and the wish for a 
pleasant vacation for him, 

I am very respectfully yours, 

Albert M. Crane. 

When Ward looked up he saw that his father’s eyes 
were upon him, and that he was regarding him atten- 
tively ; but there was pride as well as disappointment 
in the expression upon his face. 

‘ ‘ Mr. Crane is the squarest teacher in Weston. All 
the fellows say so,” said Ward. 

“I don’t doubt that,” replied his father smiling; 
“ but what do you think of his letter ? ” 

“ I haven’t done my best, I can’t deny that ; but you 
don’t know how I have been handicapped. Doctor 
Boyd is a good man, but I’ve had to learn not to do a 
good many things he taught me to do. It’s been hard 
work too. ” 

‘ ‘ That may be so ; but Mr. Crane thinks you can do 
better. I don’t care to add anything to what he has 
written. I hope that will be sufficient. Only, Ward, 
I do want you to do your best. I know you’ll try 
now,” and his father arose and left the room. 

Ward hurried down to Henry's home, eager to learn 


VACATION 


237 


what his report had been, and was greatly relieved 
when he found that his also was “Fair.” He said 
nothing of Mr. Crane’s letter, although in its effect 
upon him it is doubtful whether Ward’s purpose to do 
better was stronger than his pride in the belief the 
teacher had expressed that he could lead his class if he 
only chose to. 

How many a bright boy has lost his best endeavors, 
just because he believed that he could do better, “if 
he only chose to.” Ward had yet to learn the great 
lesson of life, that it is choosing to do, and doing what 
he chooses, which tests the highest ability of all in the 
end. 

The days now passed rapidly. With the load gone 
from his mind by the coming of the reports and Mr. 
Crane’s letter, Ward gave himself heartily to the en- 
joyment of his vacation. Always a favorite, it seemed 
now as if the young people of Rockford were doing all 
in their power to make his stay, and that of Henry, 
pleasant to them both. 

They were beset with invitations of many kinds ; there 
were sleighing parties and entertainments, such as a 
little country village affords, for every day and evening ; 
and whenever Ward thought of Weston it was with the 
wish that he might not go back again. Here it was 
so much more easy to do right. There was no Tim 
Pickard with his money and his easy-going morals to 
tempt him aside. There was no Jack either ; for much 
as Ward had come to think of him, he could not but 
realize after all that the mischievous, happy-go-lucky, 
generous-hearted boy had not helped him to do his best. 


238 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Ward was like many another, who believes that 
whether he does right or not, depends more upon his 
associates than it does upon himself. He had promised 
himself and his father, after the reception of Mr. 
Crane’s letter, that he would do better ; but whenever 
he thought of Tim and Jack, and above all of the 
* ‘ Tangs, ’ ’ his heart misgave him, and he feared for his 
promise. 

Jack and Ned Butler were to spend the last week of 
the vacation in Rockford, the one with Ward, and the 
other with Henry. Their coming was eagerly awaited, 
and when at last they leaped from the train which 
brought them into the station, and the four boys 
unitedly gave the Weston cheer, the amazed country 
people looked on in wonder, thinking as one old man 
expressed it that 4 ‘ Bedlam was let loose among them 
youngsters.” 

The visitors entered heartily into the life of the 
young people at Rockford, which was all new and 
strange to them, but it was not long before they were 
regarded as ‘ ‘ fine fellows, ’ ’ and the friends of our boys 
were the friends of all. 

“No, there’s no doubt about it,” said Jack one 
night, as the four boys sat at the tea table with the 
family in Ward’s home: “Ward’s able to lead our 
class. But I don’t want to see him just make a ‘ dig ’ 
of himself for my part. My father said the best things 
he learned at Weston were outside the classes.” 

“Yes, they all say Ward could be the leader,” said 
Ned, looking kindly at Ward across the table. “ He’ll 
do it too, before the year’s over.” 


VACATION 


239 


“I know it, and I wish he would,” said Henry. 
“You’ve got me over into your room now, and Ward 
won’t have any one to disturb him next term.” 

“He won’t, eh?” said Jack laughing. “The 

‘ Tangs ’ ” He stopped abruptly, realizing that he 

had said too much, and Ned and Henry looked curi- 
iously at Ward, who w T as blushing in spite of all his 
efforts to appear unconcerned. 

“ The ‘ Tangs.’ What are they ? ” inquired Ward’s 
mother, looking at Jack. 

“Oh, they’re a-a-debating society,” stammered 
Jack. 

“An excellent idea,” said Mr. Hill gravely. “A 
most excellent one. I hope both of you belong,” he 
added, looking at Henry and Ned as he spoke. 

“ No, we don’t,” said Henry briefly. 

“ The winter term’s the hardest of the year,” said 
Jack trying to change the conversation. “ There’s no 
base ball nor anything much going on then. It’s just 
dig and grind and snow.” 

“It’s the best term for work, though,” said Ned. 
“There’s nothing to call a fellow’s attention away 
from his work. He just has to study or he’ll get so 
homesick he can’t stand it. He has to work to kill 
time. Ward and Henry will find that out, though I 
don’t know as Henry will so much, now that I’ve got 
him away from Ward.” 

“We’re sorry to have him change,” said Mrs. Hill. 
“He and Ward have been great friends ever since 
they were little boys. They have been almost like 
brothers. ’ ’ 


240 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“Yes, their souls have been knit together like the 
souls of David and Jonathan,” said Ward’s father. 

“I don’t want to urge him to leave Ward,” said 
Ned quickly. “ I know I’m selfish, but I’m all alone 
in my room, and have been so long that I thought I’d 
be glad to have him come. He’ll help me, and Ward 
can get on alone. Still— — ” 

“ Nonsense,” said Ward quickly. “ Of course he’ll 
go. When a fellow gets a chance to change his room, 
and have such a chum as Ned, he’d be foolish not to 
take it.” 

“ We’ll make it up for Ward next year,” said Jack 
quickly. “My chum ’ll be gone then, and I’ll have 
Ward there to help me just as Ned’s got Henry. This 
winter, though, he won’t want any one to interfere with 
him, if he’s going to be the leader of the class,” and 
he looked comically at Ward, who sat next to him. 

The dangerous places in the conversation had been 
passed over now, although Ward felt guilty whenever 
he looked at Henry or Ned. They knew just how he 
was doing, and that unless there was a very marked 
change in his life his prospect of leading the class was 
not very brilliant. But his father and mother knew 
nothing of what was passing in his mind ; that was one 
comfort ; and while they might soon be taught the 
truth, there was meanwhile the possibility that he 
might regain his lost laurels during the coming term. 

And Ward thought that he really intended to do 
better. The praise of Mr. Crane had been very sweet 
to him, and yet somehow he had not fully seen that 
Mr. Crane’s letter had been one of blame after all. It 


VACATION 


241 


was more because he had not done well that he had 
written, than it was because of his ability to do better. 

; But Ward, like many another, chose to receive only 
; the words which pleased him, rather than the words 
which he knew to be true. 

A crowd of young people assembled at the station 
I when the time came for the boys to go back to Weston. 

They all had had such a good time during the week, 

| and Ned and Jack had made so many warm friends 
| that they were ready to declare that they would accept 
; all of the many invitations which were given them to 
i spend the summer vacation in Rockford. 

At last, when the farewells were all spoken, and the 
train had stopped at the station, the four boys took 
their stand on the platform of the rear car, and called 
and waved responses to the laughing crowd of boys and 
girls left behind them. Rockford was soon lost to 
sight, and the boys entered the car and took their seats 
together. 

The others were gay enough, but it was some time 
before Ward could bring himself to join in their good 
times. He was thinking of his father and mother, and 
how high their hopes had been raised for him in the 
coming term. Would he again disappoint them ? The 
very laugh of Jack seemed to show it. And yet Ward 
honestly intended to do better, but he was conscious 
that he was already held back by his experiences of the 
preceding term. Could he break from them now? 
What would the ‘ ‘ Tangs ’ ’ think if he left them ? It 
seemed to him as if he were held fast on every side, and 
yet all that Ward Hill needed even now was that little 
Q 


242 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


decided “yes” and “no,” of which Ned Butler had 
spoken on his first night in Weston. 

“Why so pensive, Ward?” said Jack at last, who 
was sitting by his side. 

“ I didn’t know that I was,” replied Ward. 

“I’ve got some great news for you.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ I got a letter from Tim just before we left Rock- 
ford. I hadn’t time to show it to you before.” 

“ What does he say ? ” 

Jack drew closer, and in a low voice began to explain 
the contents of Tim Pickard’s letter 


CHAPTER XXVI 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 

‘ ‘ miM’S got an extra allowance, ’ ’ said Jack. ‘ ‘ Some 

JL aunt, or something or other, sent him a draft 
for fifty dollars as a Christmas present. He says he’s 
going to use it in a spread for the ‘ Tangs, ’ in honor of 
your joining.” 

“ What, the whole fifty dollars ? That’s too much,” 
replied Ward, to whom that amount of money seemed 
like a vast sum. Money was not given away after that 
manner in Rockford. 

“ Oh, I don’t know about that. He’ll do the right 
thing. I told you you wouldn’t regret it if you joined 
the ‘ Tangs, ’ and you see my words are already coming 
true, aren’t they? ” 

“I don’t know,” replied Ward slowly. It was in 
his heart to tell Jack how much he regretted ever hav- 
ing joined them. The wish and hope of his father and 
mother were now fresh in his mind, and he had an hon- 
est desire not to disappoint them again. 

Perhaps Jack realized something of what was pass- 
ing through his companion’s mind, for he said : “Oh, 
don’t be afraid, Ward. We’ll all be glad to see you 
the valedic, every one of us; but you don’t want to be 
just a grind, do you ? All we want is some fun along 
with all the hard work. We sha’n’t always be boys, 

243 


244 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


you know, nor shall we always be in the Weston school. 
So we want to make the most of all our chances while 
we have them.” 

“Yes, I know that’s so,” replied Ward, brighten- 
ing a little. “I don’t see why we can’t have them 
both.” 

“We can,” said Jack emphatically. “Don’t you 
know how every old boy that comes back to the school 
always talks of the good times he had ? ’ ’ 

“Yes. I’ve often thought of that, and wondered 
why it was that they talked so much more about their 
scrapes than they did about their work. But they all 
do.” 

“Of course they do. They take the work for 
granted, I fancy, and then the other comes in like the 
desert after dinner. We can’t afford to do nothing 
but work, you know. We’ve got to have some fun 
along with all of our labors. All work and no play 
would make even Speck a dull boy,” and Jack laughed 
heartily at his own joke. 

Ward too joined in the laugh, and his spirits re- 
turned. Yes, he would work, and work hard, but 
there could be no harm in having a good time and 
some fun along with it all. That was the reasonable 
view to take of it, and that was what he would do. 

At the various stopping places their schoolmates 
entered the car, and soon catching sight of the little 
group joined it, until gradually it became larger, and 
by the time they had arrived at Dorrfield the car was 
nearly filled with the laughing, boisterous crowd of 
W eston boys. 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 


245 


The snow lay deep upon the ground, and they were 
soon transferred to the sleighs which were in waiting 
for them, and were riding swiftly over the smooth road 
to Weston. 

How different it all was now, Ward thought, from 
the time when he had taken that same ride in the pre- 
ceding September. Then it was all new and strange, 
while now there was not a boy in any of the loads with 
whom he was not acquainted. There were the same 
overshadowing mountains, but now they were covered 
with snow. Still, they revealed many places with 
which he was familiar, and as he looked away to the 
Hump he recalled the experiences of mountain day, 
and glanced back at Pond who was on the seat next 
behind him. 

“ Been up to the Hump lately, Pond ? ” he said. 

“Not during the vacation,” was Pond’s laughing 
reply. “ That day last October was enough for me.” 

His words set all the boys talking of that terrible 
experience, and Ward almost envied Pond. His boyish 
face was all aglow with health and happiness, although 
he was somewhat abashed by the praises of his com- 
panions. “There’s no doubt about his doing well,” 
thought Ward. Why was it that Pond could go 
steadily on, without yielding to any of the temptations 
of school life, and yet retain the good-will and respect 
of all ? He knew there was not a boy in the entire 
school who was better liked than Pond, although he 
never tried to conceal the fact that he had no money, 
and never neglected his work for any one or any thing. 
“ Why can’t I do it too ? ” said Ward to himself. 


246 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


But the boys would not leave him long to meditate 
on such things, and soon Ward was laughing and 
shouting with the others. There was such an exhilara- 
tion in the swift ride over the snow in the dusk of the 
evening, there was such a contagion in the very life and 
spirits of his companions, that his gloomy thoughts 
were soon forgotten, and when they drove up before 
East Hall to leave the boys who roomed there, Ward 
stood up and led the cheering as they started on again. 

‘‘I’ve yer room alridy for yez, young gintlemen,” 
said Professor Mike when Ward and Henry entered 
West Hall. “ It’s a good vacation I hope yez had.” 

“Fine, Mike!” shouted Ward. “How was it 
with yourself? ” 

“ Indade and I’ve bin busy, that I have. I didn’t 
know as a bit of a brick would be left in West Hall 
whin I was through cleanin’ up after yez. It’s mony 
a talk I’ve had to have wid the doctor. I’m nixt to 
the principal, ye know.” 

‘ ‘ All right, Mike ! ’ ’ shouted W ard as he hurriedly 
entered his room, and prepared to hasten down to the 
dining hall for his supper. There the eager boys re- 
counted their vacation experiences, and the time flew 
rapidly by. 

The next day Henry removed his possessions to Ned 
Butler’s room, and Ward was left alone. He was 
truly sorry to have Henry go, for in spite of their 
differences during the fall term, Ward somehow felt 
that there was no one in the school after all who was so 
true a friend to him. 

And his feeling of loneliness was not made lighter as 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 


247 


he realized that all Henry had wanted to make him re- 
main was a word from him. One word would have re- 
stored all the pleasant relations of the former years, 
but Ward had not spoken it. He had felt too proud 
to protest. If Henry wanted to go, let him go. Ward 
arose and stood by the window when the bell for study 
hours rang out. The lights from the various buildings 
twinkled in the darkness. The wind was rising, and 
as it swept down through the valley it gave forth such 
a mournful sound that Ward knew a storm was gather- 
ing. And it seemed so lonesome too. The good times 
he had had during the vacation came trooping up before 
his mind. And here he was back in Weston, far from 
home, with all of the work to be done, and tempta- 
tions to be faced which he did not feel sure he could 
wholly resist. He wished he was back in Rockford. 
There it was so much easier to do right. There no 
questions like these now before him had to be faced. 
For the first time since he had come to Weston he felt 
utterly wretched and homesick. The rap of Mr. Blake 
upon his door recalled him to himself, and answering 
the summons he soon seated himself at his study table 
and began his work. 

For two days he worked hard. After all it was not 
so bad, this rooming alone. No one interfered with 
him, no one asked questions or interrupted him in his 
w r ork. And for those two days no one in all the class 
recited as Ward did. 

“You’ve begun the term well, Hill,” said Mr. 
Crane cordially as Ward started to pass out of his room 
after the Latin recitation of the second day. 


248 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“I’m going to try, Mr. Crane,” said Ward eagerly. 

‘ ‘ Indeed I am, and I want to thank you for that letter 
you wrote my father. He enjoyed it, and so did I, 
ever so much.” 

“I didn’t write it exactly to make you enjoy it, 
Hill. That wasn’t my motive.” 

“Yes, I know,” said Ward quickly ; “but I hope 
it did me good just the same.” 

‘ ‘ I hope so. And I trust that you will keep right 
on while I am gone.” 

“ Gone ! Are you going to leave, Mr. Crane? ” 

“Only for three or four days. I’ve been called 
away suddenly ; but Dr. Gray will take my classes. ’ ’ 

That night, before study hour, Jack and Tim came 
over to Ward’s room. His heart sank as they entered, 
for he saw at once by the expression upon their faces 
that some mischief was on foot. Could he resist? 
The test had now come again. 

“Ward,” said Jack eagerly, “we’ve got it all 
fixed. We’ll have a high old time too.” 

“ Got what fixed ? ” 

“ Why the supper of the ‘Tangs.’ We’ve been a 
little slow in getting your spread ready, Ward, but it’s 
almost here now, and we’ll try to make up for lost time 
while we are at it too.” 

“You needn’t make any spread for me,” replied 
Ward slowly. He might as well face it now as at any 
time. 

“ Oh, but we want to,” said Tim. “ No fellow has 
ever joined the ‘Tangs ’ yet, they tell me, without having 
a feast given him. The last fellow that joins has to 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 


249 


give one for the next to be initiated. I was the last to 
join before you, and it’s my turn now, though they 
didn’t put you through as they did me. They gave me 
the major test every time.” 

“We did that,” said Jack, with a laugh. “Tim 
had been anxious to join for a long time, and when at 
last we took him in, we made up our minds we’d see 
whether he was fit to join or not.” 

“ Well, you saw that I was fit, didn’t you? ” asked 
Tim. 

“We just did that,” replied Jack, laughing again. 
“We gave him the major every time.” 

Ward had been silent for several minutes. There 
was a struggle going on in his mind. At first he had 
fully determined that he would tell the boys that he 
must resign from the ‘Tangs.’ He had come back to 
Weston to work this term, and work he must. But 
when Tim had explained how each new member, after 
his initiation, was expected to give a spread to all the 
members when the next one joined, his heart failed 
him. How he ever was to secure the money with which 
to do that when his time came, as come it must and 
soon, he did not know ; but if he should resign now, 
he would at once be accused of doing so because he was 
unwilling to furnish a feast in nis turn. 

Even then he might have decided aright, but he was 
held back, as many a foolish boy, and man too, has 
been by the fear of appearing penurious and small. 
And boys have little mercy in their judgments. Ward 
was afraid to do it, and although he was frightened 
when he thought of what he must do when his turn 


250 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


came, he apparently gave way, and listened attentively 
to what his visitors had to say. 

4 ‘We’re going to have it on Saturday night up in 
our room in East Hall, Ward. Don’t eat too much 
veal at the ‘hash-house’ before you come up. We’re 
going to have a turkey. I bought one, and hired 
Jacob’s wife to cook it for me.” Jacob was the colored 
janitor of East Hall, and was never unwilling to re- 
ceive small sums from the boys for labors which he 
would not have wanted reported to Dr. Gray. 

‘ ‘ Have you got permission to have a dinner there ? ’ ’ 

Tim laughed heartily, as he replied : ‘ ‘ Permission ! 
Well I rather guess not. We wouldn’t get it if we did 
ask. But Mr. Crane is going to be away, so we’ll be 
all right.” 

Yes, Ward knew Mr. Crane was to be absent, for he 
himself had told him. His other words however he did 
not choose to recall at the time. 

“Eight o’clock sharp,” said Jack, as he and Tim 
turned to go. “Don’t come with any one. We’ll 
have to come in still, and one by one, so as not to 
arouse .suspicion. ’ ’ 

“All right, I’ll be there,” replied Ward, as he be- 
gan his lessons, for the bell had now been rung. 

But study he could not. He knew that he had 
fallen at the very first trial, and that instead of freeing 
himself from the evil influences, he was entangled more 
deeply than before. He tried not to think of it, but 
all through the following day he was struggling with 
himself, while knowing all the time that he was moving 
on in the very way the “ Tangs” most desired. 




“There came a loud rap at the door.’’ 

Page 251. 






AN UNINVITED GUEST 


251 


Just before eight o’clock, on the following evening, 
he left West Hall and sauntered leisurely over toward 
East. He met Henry and Ned, who invited him to go 
with them over to the doctor’s ; but declining, Ward 
hastened on and soon was admitted into Tim’s room. 

Almost all of the ‘ ‘ Tangs ’ ’ were there before him, and 
what a sight it was upon which he looked ! The table 
in the center of the room was spread with the feast. 
A huge turkey reposed temptingly in the middle, and 
was surrounded by dishes of many kinds. Three or 
four bottles were on the table too, and as Ward saw 
them he was almost tempted even then to turn and 
leave the room. 

Before he could take any such action however, the 
boys all greeted and welcomed him ; the door w r as 
quickly bolted, and Tim, turning to the others, said : 
“ The Lop-eared Boarer has come, boys. What shall 
we do? Draw up to the table,” he added, without 
waiting for a reply. “ There aren’t chairs enough to 
go around so some of you sit on the floor. I’ll do the 
honors of the occasion.” 

The boys quickly seated themselves as they had been 
bidden, and Tim, taking a huge knife, advanced toward 
the table. He had just cut one slice from the turkey 
when there came a loud rap on the door. 

“It’s Dr. Gray,” said Jack aghast. “I know 
his rap every time. What shall we do, fellows?” 
The boys looked at one another in consternation. For 
a moment no one spoke, and then the silence was broken 
by another rapping upon the door, louder, more im- 
perative than before.* 


CHAPTER XXVII 


WHAT BECAME OF THE FEAST 

T HOROUGHLY aroused now by the repeated sum- 
mons for admission, the boys hastily cleared the 
table, hiding the dishes in the bedrooms and closets, 
while Jack, taking a long string, tied it to the legs of 
the turkey and lowered the fowl from the window out- 
side the building ; and then, after carefully fastening 
the string, quickly closed the sash upon it. 

It seemed as if scarcely a minute had passed before 
all signs of a feast had disappeared, and the frightened 
boys had also concealed themselves in the closets and 
bedrooms, Ward seeking the shelter of the coal closet, 
and so eager was he to escape that he had climbed up 
the sides, holding on by forcing his fingers and toes into 
the wide cracks between the boards. Just why he 
thought he would be safer if he clambered up the be- 
grimed sides of the dusty coal closet he could not have 
explained, but he thought he must do something, and 
this was the first to present itself. 

The rapping upon the door was now repeated for the 
third time, and was followed by a call which Tim and 
Jack, who in desperate haste, had seated themselves 
by the study table as if they were hard at work, al- 
though Jack was holding his book upside down, had no 
difficulty in recognizing as that of Dr. Gray’s. 

252 


WHAT BECAME OF THE FEAST 


253 


“Why, good -evening, doctor,” said Jack, who 
opened the door. “Is it you? You must excuse us 
for not opening the door before ; we never can tell 
whether it’s some of the fellows who want to bother us, 
or some of the teachers, you know. Take this chair, ’ ’ 
he added, as he rolled the largest and most comfortable 
of all the chairs in the room toward their visitor. 

“ Yes,” said Tim, who arose as soon as the principal 
entered, “we were so busy studying we didn’t hear 
your other raps. Please excuse us. Let me take your 
hat and coat.” 

The doctor’s eyes were twinkling as he replied: 
‘ ‘ How did you know I rapped before, if you did not 
hear me ? I must confess it is quite a surprise to find 
you studying on Saturday evening. You must be very 
fond of your work. I don’t think many of the boys 
are working now.” 

“No, most of the fellows don’t have to dig as we 
do,” replied Jack soberly, still holding his book in his 
hand. “ All this Latin and Greek comes hard to me, 
and I don’t see what my father wants me to study it for, 
anyway. I’m going into business with him, and I sha’n’t 
have much use for it then.” 

* ‘ Probably not, ’ ’ replied the doctor dryly, ‘ ‘ espe- 
cially if you study it upside down, as you are doing 
now. ’ ’ 

Jack glanced quickly at the book in his hand, and 
for the first time saw that he was holding it as the doc- 
tor hinted. Even he was somewhat confused, while 
Tim laughed outright. 

Dr. Gray meanwhile had removed his hat and 


254 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


overcoat, and seated himself comfortably in the chair 
Jack had provided for him, and then began to talk 
with the boys. He brought up various topics of the 
school life, inquired their opinions concerning the pros- 
pect of the baseball nine in the spring, conversed with 
them about their homes and the life in the great city, 
but did not mention that which was uppermost in the 
minds of both his hearers, and indeed of all his hearers, 
for the other boys in their hiding places were striving 
to hear what the doctor was saying. He talked easily 
and steadily, not seeming to notice the breaks which 
came when the troubled boys either made no reply, or 
in their confusion spoke without realizing what they 
were saying. 

A half-hour passed in this way, and he showed no 
disposition to leave. Another quarter of an hour went 
by, but still the doctor sat in the great chair talking 
affably, and apparently unaware, or ignoring the fact 
if he saw it, that his young hearers were becoming more 
and more uneasy. 

They detected each other in casting troubled glances 
toward the bedrooms and the closets. If the doctor were 
to stay much longer, some of those boys, who were all 
cramped up in their places of concealment, would be 
able to restrain themselves no longer. Would he never 
go? Jack began to suspect that Dr. Gray was in- 
tending to stay until something happened. A sudden 
crash or fall in the coal closet just then caused both of 
the boys almost to start from their chairs, but their 
visitor apparently did not hear or heed it. 

An hour had gone now, but there were no signs of 


WHAT BECAME OF THE FEAST 255 

departure on the part of the principal. Could any- 
thing be done to induce him to leave ? Jack felt cer- 
tain that he knew of the presence of the others, and he 
was about to tell him the true condition, believing now 
that he would not go until this had been done, when 
the doctor asked him a question : 

“You board at Mrs. Perrins’ still, do you not? I 
have not heard of any change on your part.” 

“Yes — no — I’m not sure. What did you say, 
doctor? ” said Jack in confusion. 

‘ ‘ I merely inquired whether you still were taking 
your meals at Mrs. Perrins? ” 

“Yes, we do, ’’.said Jack as soberly as if he were 
speaking under oath. 

“ Oh, I thought so. It is a most excellent place. 
She provides bountifully for you all, I doubt not.” 

“Yes ; they say it’s the best table in Weston. I’m 
perfectly satisfied with it, anyway.” 

“Yes, I should say so. Do you know, I thought 
when I first entered your room that I could detect the 
odor of roasted fowl ? Of course I must have been mis- 
taken, for boys who are as well provided for as you say 
you are by Mrs. Perrins, would not be apt to have any 
food in their rooms. It must have been a fancy on my 
part.” 

“You don’t object to the fellows having a spread in 
their rooms sometimes, do you, doctor? I nev^r 
thought there would be any objection to that. Are 
you opposed to it, doctor ? ’ ’ 

“ By no means ; although you, of course, would have 
no temptation or desire for that, as you are so well pro- 


256 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


vided for by Mrs. Perrin. No ; I should have no 
objection to a spread, as you call it, in the rooms of the 
students occasionally, provided, of course, that they 
first mentioned it to the teacher in charge of the build- 
ing, and obtained his consent. Otherwise I should be 
very decidedly opposed to it, as it might very easily 
lead to excesses on the part of some.” 

Neither of the boys made any reply, and the doctor 
added, as he arose : “But I think I must be going. 
Mrs. Gray will be wondering what has become of me.” 

“Won’t you stay, doctor?” said Jack with a sigh 
of relief, but feeling bound to ask the question. 

“Why, yes, I think I’ll stay a little longer, since 
you desire it,” said the doctor, seating himself once 
more in the easy -chair. ‘ ‘ I feared I might disturb 
you. It is such an unusual thing for me to find the 
boys studying on Saturday evening, that at first I 
hardly knew what to make of it. And to think that 
you were so busily engaged that I was compelled to rap 
three times before I could make myself heard ! Ah, 
this will be a source of great pleasure to Mr. Crane 
when he returns, and I tell him of it.” 

With a look of dismay which the boys could not en- 
tirely repress, they resumed their seats, but their visitor 
apparently was all unconscious of everything but their 
invitation for him to stay longer. 

He continued his conversation, if conversation it 
could be termed when almost all the words were spoken 
by one. He made suggestions as to the best methods 
of doing their work, commending them again and again 
for their diligence in studying on a Saturday night. 


WHAT BECAME OF THE FEAST 


257 


He looked over their books which they tremblingly 
handed to him at his request, for they were so marked 
and interlined as to be far from presentable, but he 
made no remarks about their condition, apparently 
being interested chiefly in the fact that he should have 
found them studying so busily at a time when there were 
no study hours required. There was however a kind of 
a twinkle in his eyes that made Jack and Tim more 
and more uneasy. They were satisfied that he knew 
just what their plans for the evening had been, although 
they could not conjecture how he had discovered them. 

Another half-hour passed, the doctor still doing the 
most of the talking, and apparently ignoring the grow- 
ing uneasiness of the boys. Their replies to his ques- 
tions were brief now and abrupt, and at every moment 
they expected to see one of the doors opened, and some 
one. of their companions appear. 

Finally the doctor rose again and said : “The bell 
for retiring will soon be rung, and I really think I must 
be going now. I have enjoyed my evening very much, 
and I trust that you will forgive me for interrupting 
your studies. I must go now, however, as I want to 
call upon a few of the other boys before the evening is 
over. You must return my call, and I can assure you 
that both Mrs. Gray and myself will be pleased to have 
you come often.” 

Jack did not repeat his invitation this time for the 
doctor to remain, and in his eagerness to have him go 
he went before him, and held open the door. 

“Good -night, boys,” said the doctor soberly, shak- 
ing hands with each. Even then he delayed as he 
R 


258 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


stood by the door, and Jack thought he was scanning 
closely the doors to the bedrooms and closets. The boy 
was in a highly nervous state now, for he feared that 
the others, hearing the last words of the doctor, would 
come forth from their hiding places before he was gone. 

At length the principal departed, and the boys waited 
a moment to make sure that he had really left the build- 
ing before they went back into their room. 

Once there they closed and bolted the door, and then, 
relieved from the long strain, Jack seated himself and 
laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. Tim, 
however, wasted no time in summoning their com- 
panions, and in a moment the room was filled with 
the boys. And a sorry spectacle some of them pre- 
sented. Ward’s face and hands were covered with coal 
dust, and as he looked ruefully at himself in the mirror, 
he said : 

“I look as if I’d had a spread, don’t I? I hung 
on to the sides of the closet just as long as I could, 
and when I dropped I thought I’d started straight for 
China. I was afraid he’d hear me, too.” 

“Hear you!” said Jack. “You came down like 
a load of bricks. I thought the roof had fallen in. 
But there sat the doctor, and he never winked. He 
just pretended he didn’t know anything about it, and 
he had that lamblike expression which he always puts 
on along with his Sunday suit, and he looked just as 
innocent as a baby. He did, honest.” 

“Well, he kept me shut up there under the bed,” 
said one of the boys, “ till I thought I’d grown fast to 
the floor. You can’t fool Dr. Gray. He knew what 


WHAT BECAME OF THE FEAST 259 

he was doing all the time ; but I don’t believe he knew 
who was here.” 

“Look at me,” said another. “I was crawling 
around there on the floor trying to get behind Russell, 
but he wouldn’t let me. Every fellow seemed to want 
to get just as far away from the door as he possibly 
could. He expected the doctor to open it, and he 
didn’t want to be the first to be seen.” 

“Come on, fellows, let’s get out of this. I’ve had 
enough for one night, ’ ’ said another of the boys, start- 
ing toward the door. 

“No, hold on,” said Tim quickly. “We’ve got 
time enough yet. Bring out the stuff and we’ll stow 
it away in short order. It’s too bad the doctor in- 
terrupted us, but we’ve time enough yet before the bell 
rings to make a start, anyway. Bring it out and put 
it on the table.” 

A silence followed Tim’s words, and some of the 
boys looked foolishly at one another. “Why don’t 
you bring it out? ” said Tim again. “ Here, I’ll get 
it myself,” and he started quickly toward the bedroom, 
unmindful of the fact that some of the boys were edg- 
ing toward the hall door. They all waited a moment 
until Tim came out. There was a look of blank 
astonishment upon his face. “ There’s nothing in there 
but the dishes. What’s become of all the stuff that 
was in them, I’d like to know? ” 

None of the boys at first made any reply, and Jack, 
throwing himself upon the floor, began to laugh as if 
he could not control himself. “ Oh, Tim ! Oh, Tim ! ” 
he groaned. “Oh, the lost dinner! Oh, the gour- 


260 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


mands ! The fiends ! They’ve stored it all away, 
they have, every bit of it.” 

Tim glanced angrily at the boys and said, “ Is that 
it? You don’t mean to say you’ve eaten all that stuff 
in there while we were out here with the doctor, do 
you ? ” 

“Well, Tim,” said Russell slowly, “it was about 
this way. We didn’t intend to. We didn’t, honestly. 
But when we rushed in there, each fellow with a dish 
in his hands, we braced up against the door and held 
on for dear life. Pretty soon we began to feel tired, 
and when the doctor kept staying, why we began to 
feel hungry, you know. Rather wanted breakfast, you 
see. So each fellow just began to taste of the stuff in 
the dish he had, and before he knew it, it was all 
gone. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ All the pies and everything ? ’ ’ said Tim angrily, 
looking about him once more. 

“All the pies and everything,” groaned Jack roll- 
ing over again and hugging himself in his glee. 

“ Never you mind, Ward,” said Tim quickly ; “ the 
turkey’s left, anyway. You and I’ll have a bite of 
that. ’ ’ 

“We don’t mind, any of us,” said the boys crowd- 
ing about Tim as he opened the window and drew up 
the string. 

Slowly and carefully Tim drew up the burden, and 
at last, with one quick jerk, seized it and closed the 
window. 

The boys were all about him, and as soon as he held 
up his prize they all looked blankly at it and at him a 


WHAT BECAME OF THE FEAST 


261 


moment, and then burst into shrieks of laughter. 
“ Oh, Tim ! ” “ Give us some of the bird ! ” “What 

a beauty ! ” were among the shouts which greeted him. 
Tim was holding nothing but the bare skeleton of the 
turkey in his hands. Every particle of the meat had 
been cut from the bones. 

“ Who did that ? ” shouted Tim, but no one replied. 
The tears were coursing down Jack’s face, and the 
boys were slapping one another on the back, shouting, 
laughing, and vainly trying to find some suitable man- 
ner of expressing their delight. 

“ He did it ! He did it ! ” said Jack, pausing for a 
moment and pointing at Big Smith, who had just 
entered the open door. 

‘ 4 Did you do that ? ’ ’ asked Tim, pointing at the 
skeleton of the turkey. “ Did you do that ? ” 

“Was that your turkey?” said Big Smith in the 
slowest and deepest tone of voice, which served only to 
irritate Tim the more. 

“Wa§ that my turkey ! ” shouted Tim. “Whose 
did you think it was ? ’ ’ 

“ I happened to be calling on Wilkinson to-night,” 
said Big Smith, in his most solemn tones; “he rooms 
below you, you know. Well, about an hour ago I 
went to the window, and what should I behold there 
directly before it, and clearly to be seen in the moon- 
light, but a turkey. It was hanging there in the air. 
I at once called AVilkinson’s attention to the strange 
sight, for it was strange to me. I had never seen any- 
thing like it before in my life. Turkeys don’t grow in 
that way around where I live.” 


262 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


He paused a moment to gaze in surprise at the boys 
whose laughter was renewed by Big Smith’s story. 

“Go on, Big Smith, go on,” said Jack as soon as 
he could speak. 

“Well, as I said, I called Wilkinson’s attention to 
the strange sight. I was hungry. There was a turkey 
all ready and hanging right in the air before us. It 
was without any visible means of support. I thought 
of the manna. That turkey was there because I was 
hungry. I took and ate. It was good and I ate it.” 

“ What, all of* it ? ” and Jack laughed again. 

“No,” replied Big Smith soberly. “I suggested 
to Wilkinson that we should save some till to-morrow, 
but no, he insisted upon treating some of the boys. So 
he called in Henry, and Ned Butler, and a few others, 
and they partook too. There’s nothing left. I am 
sorry to say it, indeed I am, but it’s all gone. All but 
the bones, and I think you still have them,” he 
added pointing to Tim’s hand. 

Again the boys broke into shouts of laughter ; but 
Tim was angry. ‘ ‘ Then you ate the turkey, did 
you? ” he demanded of Big Smith. 

“ Only a part, a very small portion. I was hungry, 
and it did not seem to me right to leave that brown and 
beautiful turkey out there in the cold; indeed I couldn’t 
do it. It wouldn’t have been right.” 

“ I’ll fix you,” replied Tim in a low voice. He was 
thoroughly angry. It was hard to lose the feast, but 
it was far worse to be laughed at by his companions. 
Jack, who knew his room-mate thoroughly, seized 
Tim’s arm just as he drew it back threateningly, 


WHAT BECAME OF THE FEAST 


263 


and whispered : ‘ ‘ Don’ t hit him, Tim. Look at the 
door.” 

Tim glanced quickly in the direction Jack indicated, 
and his arm dropped in a moment. There, standing in 
the open doorway, was Dr. Gray. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE SUPPER IN DORRFIELD 

D R. GRAY was the first to break the silence which 
followed the discovery of his presence. Tim had 
quickly drawn back among the boys, and quietly open- 
ing the window had dropped the telltale turkey bones 
outside. 

Jack meanwhile had advanced to greet the principal, 
and was the only one of the company who contrived to 
maintain even the semblance of self-possession. How 
long the doctor had been standing there, or how much 
of the conversation he had overheard, even he could 
not determine ; but striving to appear unconcerned, 
Jack said: “Excuse me, doctor, I didn’t notice that 
you were standing there. Won’t you come in and 
take a chair ? ’ ’ 

“No,” replied the doctor; “I forgot my cane, and 
think I must have left it here in your room.” 

“I’ll find it for you,” said Jack as he began to look 
about the room. “Here it is,” he added, when a 
moment later he handed the doctor his missing stick. 
“I hadn’t noticed that you left it or I would have 
brought it to you and saved you the trouble of coming 
back again for it.” 

The doctor smiled slightly as he replied, ‘ ‘ Thank 
you. It’s no trouble. You seem to have more of a 
264 


THE SUPPER IN DORRFIELD 


265 


company present than was here when I left a few 
minutes ago.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Jack, “ the boys all seem to like to 
drop in here. We’re glad of it.” 

“ Although they may interfere with your studies,” 
said Dr. Gray, and Jack thought he detected a twinkle 
in his eyes as he spoke. He had the reputation among 
the boys of appreciating a joke, even when he felt in 
duty bound to punish the offenders strictly. 

*‘011 well, we’ll have to make it up, that’s all,” 
laughed Jack. “Schools are forever, and men and 
boys only for a time. Isn’t that what you’ve told us, 
doctor ? ’ ’ 

“ I believe I have made some remarks of that kind,” 
replied the doctor grimly. “I’ll not detain you longer, 
however, this time,” he added as he turned to leave 
the room. 

Big Smith slipped quickly out of the door after him, 
and as soon as they had gone Tim said : ‘ ‘ The sneak 
has got away this time, but we’ll fix him yet. He 
can’t work his game on the ‘ Tangs ’ and not hear 
from them again. The idea of him stealing our 
feast. ’ ’ 

“He didn’t get it all,” said one of the boys. 
“There was one pie I can declare Big Smith never 
touched. I was there myself, and I know what I’m 
talking about.” 

“No, nor did any other fellow get a show at it 
either, Sawyer, ’ ’ said another. ‘ ‘ But come on, fellows ; 
it’s time for the bell, and after such a feast of reason 
and flow of soul as we’ve had to-night we don’t want 


266 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


to spoil our records by being marked late after the re- 
tiring bell. ’ , 

“Hold on a minute, Ward,” said Tim, as Ward 
started to leave the room with the other boys. ‘ ‘ I 
want to say something to you. You won’t be late ; 
wait a bit.” 

Ward lingered after the others had gone, and Tim 
said: “Never mind, Ward, you sha’n’t lose your 
spread. I’ll fix that, never you fear. And I’ll make 
it up for you too. You don’t look as if you had had a 
very high time to-night, and it wasn’t your fault any- 
way.” 

Ward looked at his hands, which were black with 
the coal dust, and made no reply. 

“What’ll you do, Tim?” asked Jack. “Mr. 
Crane will be back on Monday, and the doctor will 
put him up to be on the lookout for us. That was all 
gammon about his leaving his cane here. He left it 
on purpose, and he knew the fellows were all cooped 
up here. That was why he stayed so long, and he 
thought when he came back he’d catch us all at it.” 

“Do you think he saw me?” inquired Ward anx- 
iously. “ I kept well back in the crowd all the time 
he was talking.” 

‘ ‘ See you, my innocent ? Of course he saw you. 
Perhaps he took you for a gentleman of color with all 
that black stuff on your face and hands ; but never you 
fear, he saw you all the same. You can’t fool Dr. 
Gray. He knows what we’re up to every time, and 
that’s what makes me ask Tim how he expects to give 
another spread here very soon. ’ ’ 


THE SUPPER IN DORRFIELD 


267 


“ I’m not going to give it here,” replied Tim. “ I’m 
not as green as I look, or as you are. ’ ’ 

“What will you do then, Tim? I confess I don’t 
see how you’re going to do it.” 

“Do it! I’m going to take Ward, and you, and 
one or two of the other fellows, and go over to Dorr- 
field ; that’s what I’m going to do. But I won’t take 
one of these fellows that swallowed my spread when 
they hid in the bedrooms ; you can rest your souls on 
that, my friends. ’ ’ 

“Right you are. That’s right, Tim,” said Jack. 
“We’ll withdraw to the quiet of Dorrfield, where 
neither Big Smith nor Dr. Gray can interrupt us 
nor steal our spread. But it was mighty kind of Big 
Smith to leave those bones, Tim. You ought not to 
have thrown them away. They’d have made good 
soup. Turkey soup is all right, isn’t it, Ward ? ” 

“If we don’t fix Big Smith, then my name’s not 
Tim Pickard,” said Tim, his anger returning again as 
he thought of his loss. “ That turkey won’t set well 
with him ! ’ ’ 

“ Yes, I think B. Smith does require a little atten- 
tion,” replied Jack; “but really, Tim, you can’t 
blame the fellow. What would you have done if you’d 
seen a big turkey all cooked, and begging to be eaten, 
keep a tap -tap -tapping at your window pane? You’d 
have done the same thing, you know you would ; only 
I don’t believe you’d have left the bones, and Big 
Smith and Wilkinson did that, even you will have to 
own up,” and Jack began to laugh again as he thought 
of the expression upon his chum’s face, when he had 


268 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


drawn through the open window that bundle of clean 
and dry turkey bones. 

Tim only scowled by way of reply, and called out to 
Ward, who was standing by the door ready to go now : 
“ You’ll not be the loser, Ward ; I’ll make it up to you 
with interest added.” 

“All right,” said Ward ; “though I’m satisfied as 
it is. Good -night, fellows. I’m off for West Hall.” 

“Good-night,” replied both of the boys, and Ward 
quickly closed the door and started down the stairs. 

Somehow the joke which had been played upon Tim 
Pickard was soon known throughout the school, and 
many were the sly allusions which were made to turkey 
bones. Tim, however, managed to restrain his temper 
fairly well, and seldom replied to the bantering of his 
companions ; but his feeling toward Big Smith was 
only waiting for the suitable time and manner in which 
to assert itself. 

Nor was his promise to Ward of a “spread” at 
Dorrfield forgotten, and it came to pass one Saturday 
night, two weeks after the scene in Tim’s room, that 
the arrangements were all complete, and two of the 
“Tangs,” in addition to Ward and Jack, were to ac- 
company him to that village. 

Tim had engaged a small private room in the hotel, 
and in this the feast was to be spread. The plan was 
for the boys to creep out of their rooms soon after the 
retiring bell was rung, and meet below the hill beyond 
East Hall, where a large sleigh would be in waiting for 
them. Jack had bribed the colored janitor of East 
Hall, and the key to the large door in the hall was to 


THE SUPPER IN DORRFIELD 


269 


be left where they could readily find it. Ward did not 
dare to tempt Professor Mike to do likewise, as he was 
well aware of his loyalty to the principal, to whom he 
boasted he was “ nixt ” in authority ; but he had ob- 
tained a key to one of the unoccupied rooms on the first 
floor of West Hall, and by leaving the outside window 
unfastened, he was sure of an easy exit and entrance at 
any time. 

Soon after the bell was rung, Ward with his over- 
coat on, and with his shoes in his hand, crept quietly 
down the stairs, feeling like a thief, as indeed he was 
although it was Ward Hill from whom he was stealing 
the most. He stopped for a moment before Mr. Blake’s 
door, but as there were no signs that any one was 
watching, he stole noiselessly by, and soon had opened 
the door of the unoccupied room. He gently raised the 
window and dropped out upon the ground. He quickly 
put on his shoes, and then ran toward the meeting 
place. 

The other boys were all waiting for him, and as he 
approached, Tim . said : “We were half afraid you 
weren’t coming, Ward. We didn’t know but your 
conscience had got the better of you.” 

“ Conscience ! Who’s talking about Ward Hill hav- 
ing a conscience ? ” said Jack. “ Why you could stick 
a pin in it, and he’d never flinch. Ward hasn’t got 
such a thing in his whole make-up.” 

The boys laughed, and Ward made no reply as they 
quickly seated themselves in the sleigh, and the driver, 
whom Tim had bribed to secrecy, took up the reins and 
started for Dorrfield. 


270 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


But Ward was far from being happy. Jack’s words 
had hurt him more than he had known. 

No conscience ! Then that was the way in which he 
was regarded, was it ? And it couldn’t be hurt even 
if he had one, nor feel any pain whatever he did. Ah, 
it was troubling him sadly even then. The other boys 
seemed to be happy, and were apparently hugely enjoy- 
ing themselves. Why was it he could not enter into 
the sport as they did ? He tried to throw off his gloomy 
feelings, but in spite of all his efforts, for a time the 
thoughts of his father and mother, and of Henry and 
Ned Butler, and of Mr. Crane also, kept intruding 
themselves. 

What would they think of him if they only knew ? 
And this was what Tim called having a good time, was 
it ? Certainly he seemed to be enjoying himself, but 
Ward was thoroughly wretched, and he could not suc- 
ceed in entering in the least into the spirits of the 
others until they drove up before the door of the hotel 
in Dorrfield. 

An apparently warm welcome was given the boys by 
the proprietor, who ought to have been ashamed of 
himself for the part he was taking in aiding these Wes- 
ton schoolboys in such a disgraceful affair as that upon 
which they had entered. 

“Go right up to your room, boys,” said he; 
“everything is all ready and waiting for you. Ah, 
boys will be boys. I don’t blame you for having a bit 
of a lark. It must be pretty dry picking over at 
Weston. Boys must have some fun, and for my part 
I don’t blame them a bit.” 


THE SUPPER IN DORRFIELD 


271 


The boys passed rapidly up the stairs to the room 
which had been reserved for them. The . ‘ ‘ spread ’ ’ 
was soon ready, and then to the surprise of all, Ward’s 
mood suddenly changed. 

From being the most subdued of the party, he ap- 
parently became the gayest. He laughed the loudest, 
and sang, and told his jokes until they all were looking 
at him in surprise. They little knew how desperate the 
unhappy boy was, and how he was forcing himself to 
forget all that was troubling him, and to forget even 
his best self in throwing himself without reserve into the 
spirit of the occasion. 

“ What’s that? ” he said suddenly, when the waiter 
entered with several bottles on a tray. 

“That?” said Tim. “That’s champagne, my 
young innocent. I’m going to give you a taste of the 
stuff to-night, and you’ll say its the best you ever had 
in your life. ’ ’ 

“Not much, you’re not,” replied Ward, sobered 
again in a moment. He had been brought up to look 
with horror upon all drinking, and not even his present 
desperate feelings could interfere with his determination. 
Touch it he would not, and not all of Tim’s powers of 
persuasion served to change him. This was one thing 
he would not do. 

“All right, Ward,” replied Tim. “You’ll come 
to it after a time.” 

Jack only took a little, as perhaps the influence of 
Ward’s example was not altogether lost upon him ; 
but the other boys all followed Tim’s example, Tim 
taking most of all. 


272 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


The company soon became noisy. They shouted and 
sang boisterously, until even the proprietor felt com- 
pelled to come in and warn them. Still the feast went 
on; but all of Ward’s pleasure was gone now. He 
felt disgusted, and yet how was he to find much fault 
with the others? Was not he almost as guilty as any 
of them, and although they had gone a step farther 
than he, still he was one of them and one with them. 

It was well toward morning when the party started 
back for Weston. With all their efforts they could 
not restrain the noisy Tim, who insisted upon giving 
the school cheer whenever they passed any of the farm- 
houses on the way. As they approached Weston he 
ceased to be noisy, and was only silly, stupidly looking 
about him, and apparently unconscious of all that was 
passing. 

There was a feeling of unutterable loathing in Ward’s 
heart. He felt sick and disgusted with it all, and most 
of all with himself. He was silent all the way back, 
and when they entered the village, and the boys left 
the sleigh, Jack said: “ Some one will have to help me 
with Tim up to his room. I hope we can get in with- 
out waking Mr. Crane. It means expulsion for us all 
if he hears us. ’ ’ 

“ I’ll help you,” said Ward quietly. 

“No, you won’t, Ward,” replied Jack quickly. 
“ You’ll have no hand in this. These fellows will take 
hold. You go right over to your room and don’t wait 
here a minute. Do as I say.” 

Ward turned and left his companions and made his 
way noiselessly up to his room. If he had felt guilty 


THE SUPPER IN DORRFIELD 


273 


when he had gone, how much worse did he feel now. 
He had been one of those who had disgraced them- 
selves, and if they should be discovered, he could ex-'* 
pect no mercy for himself. And this was what Tim 
called having a good time. Ward shuddered. He 
never had had a more wretched night in all his life. 
Heartsick, conscience-smitten, discouraged, and utterly 
wretched, it was long before he fell asleep, and when 
he awoke in the morning he found that he had a 
wretched headache, and could not go to church. How- 
ever he was not disheartened over that, for he was 
almost afraid to meet his late companions, or to hear 
reports from them. 

Pond brought him his breakfast from the dining hall, 
and as he sat in the room watching Ward as he made a 
feeble attempt to eat, he suddenly said : 

“Ward, you know I’m your friend, don’t you? ” 

“Yes,” replied Ward, looking at Pond a moment 
in surprise. “ Yes, you are, Pond. Why do you 
speak of it?” 

“Well, Ward,” said Pond, “I’ve been wanting to 
speak to you for some time ; and if you’ll let me now, 

I think I’ll do it. Do you object ? ” 

“ No,” replied Ward in a low voice. 

Pond’s voice was trembling, and Ward thought he 
could detect tears in his eyes. He was subdued in a 
moment, and almost forgot his headache as he waited 
for Pond to begin. 


s 


CHAPTER XXIX 


BIG SMITH PROMISES 

44 T KNOW what I want to say, but I don’t know 
just how to say it, Ward,” said Pond hesitat- 
ingly. 

Ward could see that he was troubled and embarrassed, 
but he said nothing in reply. Somehow he was aware 
that his classmate’s message was not to be a pleasing 
one, and he was in no haste to urge him on. There 
was a silence for a minute or two before Pond resumed, 
and Ward could see that he was greatly troubled. 

4 4 It’s leaked out, Ward,” he finally managed to say 
in a low voice, 4 4 where you were last night, and who 
were with you, and what you were doing. At least 
some of the fellows know.” 

Still Ward made no reply, but he was trembling 
now. He could not imagine how any one could have 
learned of the escapade of the preceding evening, but 
his mind was busy in picturing the possible consequences 
to him and to the other boys. Already he could hear 
the sad words of Dr. Gray, and see the pained expres- 
sion upon Mr. Crane’s face. And then there were his 
father and mother, and the wretched boy groaned aloud 
as he thought of them. 

44 Are you in pain, Ward?” said Pond quickly. 
44 Can’t I do something for you ? ” 

274 


BIG SMITH PROMISES 


275 


“No,” replied Ward ; “ go on with your story. I 
want to hear it all.” 

“I’m not trying to preach to you,” said Pond. 
“No one knows better than I do that I am not fit to 
tell another fellow what he ought to do. But, Ward, 
I can’t understand it. Here you are, able to lead the 
class if you would only half try, and you’re just throw- 
ing everything away as if it wasn’t worth thinking 
about. You remember the story of Esau, don’t you, 
Ward? Well, it seems to me that you are selling out 
cheaper than he did. He got a mess of pottage at least 
for all his heritage, and I don’t see that you are getting 
anything for what you are throwing away, except 
trouble for yourself and for others too.” 

Pond’s voice was clear now, but there was a softened 
expression upon his face which prevented his hearer 
from becoming angry. Ward knew what it cost Pond 
to speak as he did, and while he felt hurt, he could not 
be angered at the words. 

At last he managed to say: “It’s all true enough, 
Pond, old fellow, everything you say. But, after all, 
you don’t understand it. It’s so easy for you to go 
straight, you don’t half appreciate what I have to 
meet. If you did you wouldn’t talk as you do about 
my selling out so cheap.” 

Ward was not the first one who has tried to blame 
his surroundings for his own failures. Somehow it is so 
easy to believe that were we some one else, or some- 
where else, we could do so much better ; our own 
peculiar trials are so much more difficult to meet than 
those which come to others. Ward was suffering, but 


276 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


he had not as yet come to the point where he could 
honestly face himself, and see that he had no one to 
blame but himself for his weakness and his failures. 

Pond smiled, but ignoring Ward’s excuses he said : 
“No, I don’t know all you have to meet, Ward, and 
I didn’t know before that you understood all I had to 
face either. But all that is neither here nor there. 
What I can’t understand is, why you should be willing 
to let such fellows as Tim Pickard drag you down with 
them. They aren’t worth your little finger, Ward, 
and here you are giving yourself to them body and 
soul ; and they’ll never appreciate the gift either, let 
me tell you.” 

“Tim’s not so bad as he’s painted,” replied Ward ; 
and then as he thought of the condition in which he 
had been when he last saw him, he suddenly became 
silent. A feeling of disgust swept ov6r him as he 
thought of Tim, and of himself as his self-constituted 
defender. When he glanced up he saw that Pond was 
regarding him intently, and that there was an expres- 
sion of deep sympathy rather than of blame or anger 
upon his face. 

‘ ‘ Surely, W ard, you would not defend either Tim or 
yourself for what happened last night,” he said. 

“You don’t mean to say that you think I was drunk 
too, do you, Pond?” said Ward, suddenly sitting up- 
right in bed and looking eagerly at his friend. 

“Not if you say you weren’t, Ward,” replied Pond 
quietly. “ It was only the report I had, anyway.” 

“ And do they say that I was ? ” 

“Yes,” answered Pond in a low voice. “The re- 


BIG SMITH PROMISES 


277 


port is that you, and Tim, and Jack, and one or two 
other fellows, went over to Dorrfield last night after the 
retiring bell, and had a supper at the hotel there, and 
didn’t come back until it was almost morning. They 
say there wasn’t one of the party who could walk 
straight, and that Tim had to be carried up the stairs 
of East Hall and put into bed.” 

“It’s a lie,” said Ward angrily. “There’s not a 
word of truth in it, that is — I mean — you see — I didn’t 
touch a drop, I didn’t honestly, Pond. I’ve been bad 
enough, I know that, but I haven’t got so far down as 
that, anyway. You will believe me, won’t you, 
Pond?” 

Ward was speaking eagerly now, and his headache 
was forgotten in his desire to make his friend believe 
what he was saying. He watched him closely as Pond 
turned quickly and said : “Of course I believe you, 
Ward, and I can’t tell you what a load you’ve lifted 
from my mind. I didn’t know just what to think at 
first, for you see not one of the fellows who were at that 
supper last night showed up this morning at breakfast. 
They all pleaded a headache, and it was only natural, 
as you yourself can see, that all the fellows should put 
them together in the same boat. ’ ’ 

“And you’ll set that straight, won’t you, Pond?” 
pleaded Ward. 

Was it the shame which followed discovery, or sorrow 
for the wrong he had done which was the more trouble- 
some to Ward ? 

“I’ll do my best,” said Pond quietly; but Ward 
could readily see that he had small hopes of convinc- 


278 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


ing the school, and certainly all the circumstances were 
against him. Ward could easily see that, and his 
heart sank again at the thought. 

“ How did the fellows find it out ?” he finally man- 
aged to inquire. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Does Big Smith know of it ? ” 

“ I don’t think he does.” 

“He’ll find it out,” groaned Ward; “and then 
he’ll let all the teachers know, and that’ll be the end 
of us all.” 

‘ ‘ Perhaps not quite so bad as that, ’ ’ said Pond rising 
and preparing to go. He was thinking that it might not 
be the most unfortunate thing for Ward if the teachers 
should learn of the trouble. It might be the means of 
bringing him back to himself again, and the generous 
boy who now was the acknowledged leader of the class, 
and who . knew that if W ard should exert himself he 
could easily gain that position, did not for a moment 
allow the thought of his own gain to triumph over his 
desire for Ward to do better. “ Let me know, Ward, 
if I can do anything,” he added. “ You know where 
I live, and you won’t have to call twice.” 

“Thank you,” replied Ward, relieved to find him- 
self again alone, although he fully appreciated Pond’s 
kindness. 

For some time he thought over the startling news he 
had just heard, and the more he thought of it the more 
troubled he became. The rumor once started would 
spread rapidly through the school, and it would be 
only a question of a brief time before Dr. Gray or 


BIG SMITH PROMISES 


279 


Mr. Crane would hear it. The thought of what would 
follow was more than he could bear, and he quickly 
arose and dressed himself. 

The friendly feeling Pond had displayed was all for- 
gotten now in his eagerness to be out among the boys 
and learn for himself what was taking place. He 
glanced at his watch and saw that it was near dinner 
time, and unmindful of his headache, he started for the 
dining hall, toward which he could see the boys making 
their way. 

As he drew near his cheeks flushed when he noticed 
the glances which were cast at him by many of the 
students. It was evident that they all knew of the af- 
fair now, and when he took his seat in the dining room 
the boys at his own table made assurance doubly sure. 
Henry looked at him with ill-concealed disgust, and 
even Ned Butler, who had always been friendly even 
when others were disposed to be distant, had little to 
say to him. 

“ Very well,” thought Ward bitterly. “ It doesn’t 
make any difference whether I’m guilty or- not, they all 
think I am. I did think I’d start in and do better, 
but there’s no use in my trying. They’ll all give me 
credit for the wrong thing every time.” 

He said nothing to any of the boys at the table, but 
as soon as the dinner was finished he started quickly 
for Jack’s room in East Hall. 

Jack was there, and had just brought in Tim’s din- 
ner from Mrs Perrins’. Ward could hardly restrain an 
expression of disgust when he looked at Tim, and even 
Jack was sobered and subdued. 


280 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“It’s all over school, Ward/’ said Jack; “and 
they’re all giving us credit for having a part of 
Tim’s fun.” 

“I know it,” said Ward bitterly. “We’ll all 
have to pack up now, and it’s all Tim’s fault, too.” 

“I’d like to know why 1 gave the supper,” said 
Tim quickly. “ Perhaps, Mr. Hill, you can explain 
that.” 

Ward’s face flushed, and he made no reply. The 
supper had been given for him, and now for him to 
complain of the giver seemed very small. More and 
more Ward felt how helpless he was, and how he was 
entangled in the meshes of a net, in the spreading of 
which he had had his own share. 

“I’ve been thinking over this matter,” said Tim 
soberly, ‘ * and it looks to me about like this. The re- 
port’s going through the school, there’s no doubt about 
that, and it will be a nine days’ wonder. I don’t 
know how it got out, but if it hasn’t got beyond the 
boys it will blow over. Of course if the teachers get 
hold of it, it will be all up with us, or with me, any- 
way. ’ ’ 

“ But the teachers will be pretty sure to get hold of 
it,” said Jack soberly. 

“I don’t know about that,” replied Tim thought- 
fully. “There’s only one fellow who would let on.” 

“ And that is? ” inquired Ward. 

“ Big Smith. Now I’ve been thinking how we can 
fix him. I believe the ‘ Tangs ’ can shut him up if we 
set about it. And I’ve a plan to propose too.” 

“What is it?” inquired both of the boys eagerly. 


BIG SMITH PROMISES 


281 


“ Why not get him up in Ward’s room — that’s right 
in West Hall, you see — and to-morrow night give him a 
shake-up? I think we can scare him so that he won’t 
talk too much.” 

“You don’t suppose he’ll keep still till to-morrow 
night, do you, Tim, if he’s going to tell? ” said Jack. 

“Very likely not, but some one of the ‘Tangs’ 
must keep with him all the time and not give him a 
chance to let on. It’ll be work, but we can do it, and 
we’ll have to too, if we stay in the school. ” 

The plan was soon agreed to, and the information 
quickly spread among the “Tangs.” As a conse- 
quence, Big Smith found himself unusually popular. 
If he started out of West Hall some one of the 
“Tangs” strangely happened to be there and joined 
him. If he stopped after a class to talk with a teacher, 
behold some one of them was by his side with his ques- 
tion also. If he entered Mr. Blake’s room, some one 
had an errand there at the same time. 

As nothing was said by any of the teachers concern- 
ing the trouble the boys felt reasonably sure that Big 
Smith had not told, and that they were still in igno- 
rance. 

Soon after supper the “Tangs,” one by one, went 
over to West Hall and entered the vacant room to 
which Ward had a key. Mr. Blake was to be kept 
busy in another building, and they had little fear of 
being detected, as guards had been stationed at each 
end of the hall. All were disguised in what they 
called the “uniform” of the “Tangs,” which effec- 
tively concealed their features, and at a quarter before 


282 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


seven all were present except the guards and Jack who 
was to bring Big Smith to the room. 

“ There they are,” whispered one of the bays, as the 
guard gave the signal, and in a moment Jack and Big 
Smith were before the door. 

Before anything could be said, both of them were 
pushed within, the door was locked, and Big Smith and 
Jack were in the center of the strangely dressed circle 
of boys, Big Smith really, and Jack apparently, gazing 
in stupid surprise at the company. 

“ Jack Hobart,” said one of the boys in a disguised 
voice, 4 ‘ do you promise never to tell any of the faculty 
about the report which was circulated as to the doings 
of some of the boys last Saturday night ? ’ ’ 

“I do,” said Jack tremblingly, and apparently 
greatly frightened. 

“And do you promise also, Big Smith?” came in 
the same sepulchral tones. 

“Never,” said Big Smith solemnly. “It was a 
disgrace to the school, and Dr. Gray ought to know 
of it, and I shall tell him too, to-night. I feel it to be 
my duty to do so. And I shall also tell him about 
this business too. The idea of boys being dressed up 
in nightshirts and with masks on ! But I know you. 
I know every one of you. That’s Tim Pickard, and 
that’s Ward ” 

Big Smith did not complete the sentence, for he was 
suddenly seized from behind, a bandage was bound tightly 
about his face, which prevented him from either speak- 
ing or seeing, and he was pushed upon a blanket which 
was held in readiness, and then he was tossed violently 


BIG SMITH PROMISES 


283 


several times against the ceiling. The blanket was 
then held still, and the leader again put the question : 
“ Will you promise now, Big Smith ? ” 

Big Smith nodded vigorously in the affirmative sev- 
eral times by way of a reply. 

“ Then drink this,” said the speaker, holding a bot- 
tle to Big Smith’s lips and compelling him to swallow 
once or twice. The bandage was then removed, and 
the question again was asked of him. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll promise. I’ll promise. I’ll never 
tell. I won’t honestly.” 

* ‘ Big Smith, ’ ’ said the same solemn voice, ‘ ‘ if we 
see any suspicious actions on your part, we shall all go 
before the principal and declare that you were with us 
in this room drinking beer,” and the speaker held up 
a bottle as he spoke. It contained nothing but water, 
but the prisoner was in ignorance of that. 

“ Oh, don’t, fellows, don’t ! My appropriation will 
be discontinued if you do. Please don’t.” 

“Beware then, Big Smith ! Avoid the appearance 
of evil and all will be well. Now go,” and once re- 
leased, Big Smith and Jack quickly left the room, and 
the other boys soon dispersed. 

Ward’s disgust with the whole affair was not dimin- 
ished as he went up the stairs to his room. The trans- 
action just ended had been so cowardly and brutal that 
his better feelings revolted. And yet what could he 
do? He could not go backward. In his trouble he 
thought he was compelled to go on to the end as the 
only way of safety, but he almost groaned aloud as he 
turned the key in his door and entered the room. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE THEFT 

I T was a long time before Ward Hill slept that night. 

What was he to do ? What could he do ? His 
thoughts were busy with his experiences thus far in the 
Weston school, and his entire downward course lay 
outlined clearly before him ; for Ward clearly realized 
that he had been falling lower and lower, not only in 
his work, but also in the estimation of his fellows as 
well, and above all in his own. 

Again he thought of the words of Ned Butler in the 
first conversation they had had, and now he knew what 
he meant when he had spoken of the decided 4 4 yes 9 9 
and 4 4 no, ” at the very beginning of his course, and 
how the boys who might lead him into trouble would 
leave him alone if they knew just where he stood. 
And Ward was blaming Tim and Jack, and others of 
the 44 Tangs ” for his own downfall. 

If they would only leave him to himself ! He only 
partially realized, or rather only partially acknowledged 
that he was in any way at fault. And yet even now that 
decided 44 no ” might aid. 

But Ward had not arrived at the point where he 
was willing to take the decided stand. He was par- 
tially realizing, w T hat we all come to know sooner or 
later, that every one of us is held by the cords of his 
284 


THE THEFT 


285 


own past evil deeds. Whenever he thought of the 
future and the possibilities that lay within it, his heart 
sank as he recalled the problems he would have to face. 
There were the “ Tangs,” and Tim and Jack, and all 
his neglect of his studies up to the present time. What- 
ever uncertainties the future might have, these at least 
were all sure. His past was accomplished, and whether 
he wanted to or no, he would be compelled to face it. 

“ There’s no use in trying now,” he groaned, “ I’m 
in too deep ever to find my way out. I’ve just got to 
go on as I have begun, and what the end of it all will 
be no one on earth can tell.” 

This decision of Ward’s apparently increased his 
recklessness. During the remainder of the term, he 
more and more neglected his work, and out of study 
hours was almost constantly with Jack or Tim, or some 
of the ‘ ‘ Tangs. ’ ’ The fear of the detection of the 
stolen feast at Dorrfield passed, as the teachers appar- 
ently had not heard of it, and Big Smith had been too 
thoroughly frightened to report it. The escape, how- 
ever, served to make some of the boys more reckless 
than before, and the monotony of the long and dreary 
winter term was broken by the pranks of the ‘ ‘ Tangs, ’ ’ 
who, although many of the boys knew of their doings, 
still contrived somehow to escape detection, and became 
bolder as the weeks went by. 

Ward seldom saw Henry now except in the class- 
room, and there they never exchanged many words. 
Each boy was somehow blaming the other for the break 
in their relations, and was too proud to be the first to 
acknowledge that he had been at fault. Ned Butler 


286 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


was always pleasant, but he was no longer cordial, and 
Ward, although he felt keenly the disappointment he 
knew Ned had, apparently ignored it all, and seldom 
visited their room. Pond was still the same cordial, 
manly fellow he had ever been, and while Ward knew 
he could not be induced to enter into any of the mis- 
chief that was going on, he never assumed a distant 
manner, or seemed to feel his superiority. Big Smith 
had been somewhat subdued by his experiences with 
the “Tangs,” and studiously avoided their company. 
He had obtained a heavy chain and padlock, and care- 
fully locked his door, even during study hours. 

Pond was the acknowledged leader of the class now, 
and he was so thoroughly liked and respected, that 
even those who were next below him never seemed to 
envy him his honors. Henry, although not a quick 
student, had, by his diligent and persistent plodding, 
won a place in the first third of his class and seemed to 
be well content. But Ward had been slipping lower 
and lower, and while at times he managed to make a 
fair recitation, it was always because his quick mind 
had rapidly seized upon the points presented in class- 
room, or been brought out by the work of the others, 
and rarely because he deserved it by his own work. 

There were nights when they coasted down the long 
hills on their “bobs,” but Ward was ever in the com- 
pany of the “Tangs” on such occasions. Ned and 
Henry had frequently invited him to go with them, for 
Ned was the owner of one of the most beautiful and 
fleetest ‘ ‘ bobs ’ ’ in all the school ; but when he steadily 
declined, they soon ceased to ask him. 


THE THEFT 


287 


The same thing was true whenever the boys went 
skating on the little stream that made its way through 
the village and which was called by the proud inhabi- 
tants “the river.” There too, Ward somehow al- 
ways found himself in the company of Tim and Jack, 
while Ned and Henry and Pond, with a few congenial 
friends, went speeding away by themselves. Some- 
times Ward would watch them with a great longing in 
his heart to cut loose from his company and be with 
them again ; but he was ever farther from the point of 
deciding. Then the reaction would follow, and he 
would be one of the merriest in his own company, and 
the boys would look at him as if they Could not quite 
understand what it all meant. Indeed Ward some- 
times detected a troubled look on Jack’s face, and he 
would appear to be about to say something, but some- 
how the word, whatever it was, was never spoken, and 
he never knew just what he had thought to say. 

Occasionally there were days when Ward would give 
himself thoroughly to his studies, but these times were 
not frequent, and the very fact of his long-continued 
neglect w T ould add to his difficulties and make it the 
more easy for him to drop his books and enter into the 
exploits of the “ Tangs.” There were days too, when 
he was homesick and utterly wretched, and longed to 
leave Weston and all its life and temptations behind 
him and be once more in his old home with his father 
and mother. It was so easy to do right there. There 
were no Tim Pickards or “Tangs” in Rockford, and 
the vision of its peace and quiet appealed strongly to 
the troubled boy ; but he never wrote home concerning 


288 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


his feelings. He knew it would be useless, as his father, 
in spite of his deep love for his boy, would never give 
his consent to Ward’s abandoning his place in Weston. 

These experiences were only occasional, however, and 
as the term dragged on, Ward steadily fell lower and 
lower, and as the time drew near for the examinations, 
his fears and forebodings increased with every passing 
day. There was to be no escape from them, and the 
days of trial must be met. But how could he ever 
meet them ? His work had been of such a character 
that only his weakness would be revealed, and then too 
these examinations counted so much in the making up 
of the report which would be sent home. 

It was only the day before the time when the exam- 
inations were to begin, and when Ward was feeling un- 
usually wretched, that he finally was led into one of the 
most disgraceful of all his experiences in his life at 
Weston. Jack and Tim had just entered his room, 
and noticing his downcast manner, at once surmised the 
cause of it all. 

“ Well, Ward,” said Jack lightly, “the long term 
is most over now, and you’ll soon be with the Rockford 
folks again. I wish I could be there again myself. I 
honestly wish I could.” 

“ I wish you could, Speck ; but I wish more that I 
could accept your invitation to spend the vacation with 
you in New York. I just dread to be home when the 
reports come in.” 

“I don’t understand why you can’t go with me. 
It’s only turning about, you know, and that’s always 
fair play. Father says I can visit you during the sum- 


THE THEFT 


289 


mer vacation, but there’s only a week this spring, you 
know, and he says mother’s been counting the days and 
almost the hours to the time when the prodigal re- 
turns. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I rather think my going home will be like that of 
the prodigal this time,” said Ward. “Sometimes I 
can’t bear to think of it. I know they’ll be so disap- 
pointed and feel so bad about it.” 

“ What’ll your father do, Ward ? Give you a long 
lecture ? ” asked Tim. 

“No, he won’t say much,” replied Ward gloomily. 
“ I think I’d feel better if he would.” 

“Not a bit of it,” and Tim laughed. “Not a bit 
of it. You’ll be glad enough to have him drop it. 
Now my governor is always lecturing me. He gives it 
to me morning, noon, and night. Why, when I get a 
letter from him now, I just rip open the envelope and 
see if there’s a check inside. I take that and throw 
the rest into the waste-paper basket. I know what 
he’ll say just as well as if I had read it. It saves 
time and some other things too.” 

Ward looked at Tim a moment, and again a feeling 
of disgust arose. Never before had his face appeared 
so coarse and brutal as now. And he was one of his 
closest friends ! 

“ Cheer up, Ward,” added Tim. “You’ll fix your 
governor all right yet. You can doctor the report if 
you have to.” 

“I never call my father ‘governor,’” said Ward 
quietly. “I’m bad enough I know, but I’m not so 
bad as to be disrespectful to him. He isn’t to blame 

T 


290 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


for my failures. He’s the best man that ever lived. 
He’d lay down his life for me, if he thought it would 
do me any good. ’ ’ 

“ Beg your pardon, Ward,” replied Tim, moved by 
Ward’s earnestness in spite of himself, and revealing 
for the moment to Ward what his feelings would have 
been if he had followed that course before. “ I’ll take 
it all back. I wish I felt like that toward my governor 
— my father, I mean — but he’s forever lecturing and 
lecturing, and nagging me. Sometimes I can’t stand 
it, that’s all.” 

“Ward,” said Jack soberly, “I’ll back you up in 
all you say about your father. He’s the best man I 
ever saw in all my life. I don’t blame you for feeling 
as you do. But, Ward, that’s what makes it all the 
harder. You’ll break his heart by your report this 
term.” 

“ I know it,” groaned Ward ; “but it’s too late now. 
I’ve thrown away all the chances.” 

“No, you haven’t, Ward,” said Jack. “I know 
it’s tough, but there’s a way out yet.” 

“ What do you mean ? ’ ’ said Ward eagerly. “ How 
can I get out of it ? ” 

“It isn’t nice, Ward, but we’ve got to look it 
squarely in the face. It’s a fact, you have slumped a 
good deal this term. They expect Tim here and me 
to be at the bottom, so no one’ll be disappointed. But 
with you its different. And they are expecting so 
much from you at home.” 

Ward looked at Jack as if he only partially under- 
stood what he was saying. His wretchedness moved 


THE THEFT 


291 


Jack still more, and he began again : “Now, Ward, 
desperate needs require desperate remedies, and I’ll 
come straight to the point. Mr. Crane usually keeps 
his examination papers in the desk of his class-room. 
We’ve taken an impression, and had a key made to fit 
that lock. Now we intend to-night to get into the 
room through one of the windows — his room is on the 
first floor you know — and then we’ll open his desk and 
copy those questions. That’ll prime us up you see, and 
your report will be all straight after all.” 

Ward was silent a moment before he replied. A 
great change had come over him, as we know, and he 
was not so shocked as he would have been three months 
before by Jack’s proposal. 

As he still remained silent, Tim broke in, endeavor- 
ing to speak lightly. “It’s all fair enough, Ward. 
Teachers are legitimate prey, you know, and they ex- 
pect we’ll get the best of them every time, if we can. 
You’ve heard lots of the old boys, when they come 
back, tell how they fooled ’em ; and the teachers always 
laugh at their stories with the others. It’s all right 
enough.” 

“When do you intend to do it?” asked Ward at 
last. 

“ To-night after study hours,” replied Jack. “We 
three will be the only ones in it. It won’t do to let 
many in, even of the * Tangs, ’ you see. The teachers 
would all be up to it at once.” 

“I’ll come around and see you after supper and let 
you know,” said Ward slowly. 

“ All right. Ward, you’d better do it. Just think 


292 


WARD PIILL AT WESTON 


of your father,” said Jack, as he and Tim arose and 
left the room. 

As soon as they were gone, Ward began to walk up 
and down his room. He could not conceal from him- 
self the wickedness of the proposal. That was only too 
apparent. But he was in such desperate straits ! 

And there was his father too. How could he ever 
face him ? Already he could see the grieved and dis- 
appointed expression on his face when he read the 
report. No ; Jack was right. Desperate conditions 
did demand desperate remedies. He would go. 

He reported his decision to Jack and Tim, and that 
night, after the retiring bell, he crept down the wind- 
ing stairway, unlocked the door of the unoccupied room 
on the first floor to which, as we know, he had a key, 
dropped softly out of the window and made his way to 
the rear of the Latin room. 

Tim and Jack soon joined him, and the boys pre- 
pared to enter. 

“ We took good care to see that this window was left 
unbolted,” said Tim. He pushed gently, and the 
window was soon open. 

* ‘ Come in both of you, ’ ’ called Tim in a whisper. 
“We don’t want to leave any one on guard. It might 
attract attention. Be quick about it and come in.” 

Ward and Jack quickly followed him, and gently 
closed the window behind them. There was sufficient 
light to enable them to make their way about the room, 
and they noiselessly approached the desk. Ward’s 
heart was beating violently, and he was greatly excited, 
although he managed to be silent. 


THE THEFT 


293 


“ Now’s the test,” said Tim, drawing a key from his 
pocket. “ If it doesn’t fit we’re done for.” 

He inserted the key, turned it quickly, and lifted 
the cover. 

“Ah, that’s the way to do it,” he whispered glee- 
fully. “Now Jack, for your light.” 

Jack drew a small candle from his pocket and quickly 
lighted it. Before them lay a bundle, of papers, and a 
hasty glance revealed that they were the ones they were 
in search of. 

“ Here, each fellow copy a part,” said Tim. “ It’ll 
save time. ’ ’ He drew some paper from his pocket and 
immediately each of the three boys was at work copying 
his portion of the questions. The work required but a 
few minutes, and then blowing out the light, they noise- 
lessly made their way out and departed for their rooms. 

Guilty as Ward felt, he yet rejoiced in his posses- 
sions. He looked over the questions he had before he 
was in bed. Now he could make a good showing after 
all ; and soon he was asleep. The other portions of the 
papers were looked over on the following day, and 
when the class assembled for the examination, Ward’s 
heart was lighter than it had been in weeks before. 

Mr. Crane moved silently about the room, handing 
each boy a printed copy of the questions. Ward and 
Jack were in no hurry, and leisurely glanced at the 
papers the teacher placed on their desks. One glance, 
however, sent the blood from Ward’s face. In con- 
sternation he looked at Jack, whose face was as blank 
as his own. The questions before them were not those 
which they had copied the night before. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE VOICE OF WARNING 


ACK smiled grimly in response to Ward’s despair- 



t) ing look, and both boys at once began to write. 
There was no help for it now, and they simply must do 
their best under the circumstances. Some of the ques- 
tions Ward saw that he could answer, and these he 
wrote out first. He worked on steadily, and was 
among the last to leave the room, so desperate was he 
and so determined to try to gain something in his ex- 
amination, which would count so much in the report 
which would be sent to his father within the next few 


days, 


At last he folded his paper, and as he handed it to 
Mr. Crane he thought he saw a peculiar expression 
upon the teacher’s face. Did he suspect? Ward 
knew how keen Mr. Crane was, and how thoroughly he 
understood all the ways of the boys, and his heart 
sank ; but not a word was spoken to him, and he 
passed out of the room, glad to be rid of the teacher’s 
presence. He thought he had not utterly failed, and 
hastened back to his room to verify some of the answers 
he had given. 

On the following day the boys left for their brief 
vacation. Signs of the coming spring were already to 
be seen, and they all were looking forward with pleas- 


294 


THE VOICE OF WARNING 


295 


ure not only to the break in the school life, but to the 
fact that when they should return, or soon after, the 
snow on the hills would be gone, and the dreary por- 
tion of the year be ended. 

The spring term, so Jack informed him, and so Ward 
readily believed, was the best of the year. The nine 
could then be at work again, there would be tramps 
over the hillsides, the trout in the brooks would be 
waiting for their coming, and Weston would more than 
atone for the long and dreary winter term which at last 
had dragged itself slowly on to the close. 

Home again ! The words meant much to Ward now, 
and not even the dread of the report could rob him en- 
tirely of his pleasure. Once more the boys almost 
filled the car they selected, and as they laughed and 
sang, Ward was the merriest of them all. 

As he came nearer home, however, the thoughts of 
the failure he had made in all his school work of the 
term again asserted themselves, and when at last the 
train drew into the station at Rockford, and he leaped 
from the platform of the car to greet his father whom 
he saw waiting for him, it was with a heavy heart that 
he responded to the warm greeting received. 

Two days passed, and then again Ward was return- 
ing from the post office with the letter in his hand which 
he knew contained his report. There was no other 
letter accompanying it, and there was some relief to be 
found in that fact, and yet it was with many misgivings 
that he saw his father open the letter and eagerly look 
at its contents. As soon as he had read it, without a 
word he handed it to Ward and quickly left the room. 


296 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Ward spread the report on the table and read it. 
“Poor” in everything. Even his deportment was 
‘ ‘ poor * ’ also, and he knew that his actions, which he 
had fondly hoped had not been discovered, because so 
little had been said about them at Weston, were known. 
It was a sad record to read, and sadder far because it 
was a faithful record, although Ward was thinking 
much more of the former than he was of the latter fact. 

He sat for a few moments in silence, creasing the 
hated report in his hands, and then quickly arose and 
started to go to Henry’s to learn what his record had 
been. Although their relations were no longer cordial, 
they yet were sufficiently friendly to make him feel free 
to do this, and as soon as he entered the parsonage he 
saw by the expression of pride on the face of good old 
Doctor Boyd, as well as by that on Henry’s face, that 
they were greatly pleased. 

“ Henry has an excellent report,” said the old man, 
rubbing his hands together in his pleasure ; ‘ * a most ex- 
cellent one. He is marked * good ’ in some things, and 
‘ excellent ’ in others. I trust that your report is 
equally satisfactory, Ward. It’s a pleasure to me to 
find that my boys have done such credit to their old 
teacher. ’ ’ 

The innocent pride of his old pastor in his own work 
was very annoying to Ward, and added to the feeling 
of guilt he could not wholly control, increased his irri- 
tation. It was bad enough to be marked “poor” in 
everything, without being compelled to witness the ela- 
tion of those who had been more successful than he. 

“ Oh, my report’s all right, I think. I’m not such 


THE VOICE OF WARNING 


297 


a 4 dig ’ as Henry is, and I’m trying to learn some- 
thing from the school besides what is in books. I’m 
glad Henry has done so well, though,” he added a 
moment later, his natural generosity soon asserting it- 
self. “ He’s worked hard, and he’s deserved it.” 

“I’m delighted to hear you say so, Ward,” replied 
Doctor Boyd, beaming benignantly upon him. “ Yes, 
Henry is a good boy, and I feel proud of him. I 
hardly thought he would take such high rank as you, 
Ward, and I am the more pleased in consequence.” 

“Ward could lead the class,” said Henry quickly, 
“if he would only work half as hard as I do. Every- 
body in the school knows that. He can see through 
things that are dark to me, no matter how hard I 
work.” 

“It’s your heart and not your head which speaks 
now, I’m afraid,” replied Ward lightly. He was, 
however, touched by the evident sincerity of Henry, 
and his heart grew soft. How he did wish the old 
times were back again when he and Henry had been 
like brothers ! How different it all was now, and it was 
all the result of his own fault. Ward realized that, 
and yet he was not quite willing to acknowledge it 
freely, even to himself. 

He soon arose to go home. He dreaded the next 
meeting with his father ; but it would have to come, 
and the sooner it was over now the better for all. 

Mr. Hill, however, made no mention of the report 
when Ward entered the house, nor did he refer to it as 
the days went by. Yet Ward knew that he was deeply 
grieved, and bitterly disappointed. He had had such 


298 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


high hopes for him, and they all seemed to be destined 
to fall. His very silence was harder for Ward to bear 
than even the words he dreaded would have been. 

At last, on the day before his return to Weston, 
when Ward was walking with his father up the quaint 
old village street, he realized that this was probably 
the last opportunity he would have to be alone with 
him, and with an effort breaking the silence, he said 
in a low voice: “My report wasn’t very good last 
term.” 

His father made no reply except to turn and look at 
him ; and that look hurt more than the sharpest words 
could have done. All his strong love for him was 
clearly to be seen, but mingled with it was his deep 
disappointment and the anxiety he felt for his boy. 

“I could have done better, I know,” said Ward 
slowly; “but really you don’t know how I’ve been 
handicapped by the work I did with Doctor Boyd. It 
set me back a year. Mr. Crane often says his hardest 
work is to get out of boys what poor teachers have put 
into them.” 

“ Is Henry’s report as bad as yours? ” inquired his 
father quietly. 

“Not quite, ’ ’ replied W ard flushing. ‘ ‘ But Henry’ s 
a regular dig. He just works and works, and does 
nothing else. He doesn’t have much to do with the 
boys, and I don’t think he’s very popular.” 

“ Is he respected ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, I rather think he’s respected,” said Ward, 
his confusion increasing; “that is, by some. But, 
father, I don’t want to promise great things this term. 


THE VOICE OF WAKNING 


299 


I’d rather not make a promise, you know, for I might 
break it. ’ * 

His father sighed as he listened, and Ward’s feeling 
of uneasiness increased, although he went boldly on and 
said : “ There’s one thing I’m going in for though, and 
that’s the prize for speaking. There’s a public contest 
at the close of this term, and all the fellows think I 
stand a good chance to take it. The ‘ Tangs—’ that 
is, Jack and Tim, say I’m one of the best speakers in 
the school. You’d like to have me take that prize, 
wouldn’t you ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Mr. Hill quietly, but making no 
further response. 

“ Well, I shall try for that, and work hard.” 

He spoke bravely, but he could not fail to see that 
his father was not very hopeful. Had he lost confi- 
dence in his own boy ? 

Why couldn’t he become a little enthusiastic, w T hen 
he had declared so positively what he was going to do ? 
Ward felt hurt, and in spite of his deep love for his 
father, he thought he might have shown a little more 
interest. 

Early on the following morning Ward and Henry 
departed from Rockford to return to Weston. Ward’s 
farewell had been a sad one, for the disappointment 
and the fears of his father and mother had made them 
both troubled, and the last good-bye was a silent em- 
brace by his mother, and only a warm pressure of his 
hand by his father. He was so utterly wretched that it 
was with almost a feeling of relief he stepped on board 
the train and left Rockford behind him. 


300 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


But what lay before him? Weston would present 
the same temptations he had met, and before which 
he had fallen. The same problems to be faced, the 
same boys to be met, and was it to be the same failure ? 
Again and again Ward resolved that he would do bet- 
ter this term, but he was so unhappy that he had little 
disposition to talk to Henry, who soon accepted the 
situation and busied himself in reading his paper. 

As they came nearer to AVeston, and the boys began 
to flock into the car, their eager faces and noisy ways 
showed their delight at being together again. Ward 
soon forgot his ill -humor, and when the lumbering old 
stage coach — for the snow was gone now and the sleighs 
had disappeared — left him at the entrance to W est Hall, 
he had recovered his spirits and was returning the wel- 
comes of the boys who had arrived before him, as happy 
as any of them. 

The opening days of the new term soon found Ward 
back in his old ways. Good intentions and easily 
made promises never yet have taken the place of sturdy 
determination and hard work, and he soon found that 
all his past neglect had made the new work so difficult 
that he soon relaxed his efforts, and much of his spare 
time was passed in the company of Jack and Tim. 

The pranks of the ‘ ‘ Tangs ’ ’ increased, but as yet 
nothing serious had occurred. The highest interest of 
the school now was in the nine, and as soon as the 
ground settled and was dry, the practice would begin 
and preparations would be made for the return game 
with the Burrs. Ward’s thoughts were mostly of this 
coming event, and he strove to persuade himself that 


THE VOICE OF WARNING 


301 


he was thoroughly happy. Weston was beginning to 
take on its spring garb. The buds were swelling on 
the trees, the winds which swept down through the val- 
ley were warm and balmy now, the brooks would soon 
be reduced to their normal size, and every day brought 
its own promise of better things to come. 

Henry and Ned Butler had shown a disposition to be 
more friendly with Ward since their return ; not that 
Ned ever had been unfriendly, or that Henry had held 
aloof from him. They had simply let him alone when 
they had seen that he preferred, or seemed to prefer, 
the company of the other boys. W ard had been pleased 
at first, but soon the claims of the “ Tangs"’ and the 
companionship of Jack and Tim asserted themselves, 
and once more he found that the boys whose good opin- 
ion he really most valued, and whom he most respected, 
were disposed to leave him to his own and chosen 
friends ; that is, all but Pond, whose love for Ward 
was deep and genuine and who never gave up the hope 
that his better self would yet assert itself. 

“I say, Ward,” said Jack, as he joined his friend 
one afternoon, when he was walking across the cam- 
pus, “the ‘Tangs’ are going to let loose to-night. 
We’re going to have a high old time.” 

“What’s up now? You fellows must lie awake 
nights and think up these things.” 

“We don’t have to lie awake. They just come to 
us like Latin and Greek, and a few other things. But 
Tim’s got a grudge to pay off, and he wants to settle 
the score to-night. We’re going to initiate a fellow 
without letting him join, that’s all.” 


302 


WARD HILLi AT WESTON 


“ Does he want to join ? ” 

“No; he doesn’t even know anything about the 
honor which is to be conferred upon him. ’ ’ 

“Who is it?” 

“ That I can’t say. All I know is that it’s some one 
Tim wants to fix up, and he says it’ll do him a world 
of good. It’ll be pure missionary work to help 
straighten him out.” 

“All right, I’ll be there,” said Ward, “if you’ll 
tell me where you’re to meet and when the performance 
is to begin. Are we to come in uniform ? ” 

“ That’s what you are. It’s to be in the same old 
room in West Hall right after supper to-night.” 

The boys parted, and Ward went back to his room. 
He was not giving much thought to the meeting of the 
“Tangs.” There had been so many of them of late 
that the novelty was gone, and his feeling of repugnance 
had mostly disappeared. There was too a growing 
carelessness on the part of some of the leaders, and 
their previous escapes from detection were making them 
much bolder now. 

Soon after supper Ward sought the vacant room and 
found several of the boys already there. Mr. Blake 
was to be away for an hour and no one was in the 
room overhead, so they felt that their presence would 
not be detected, for they seldom were noisy. Guards 
were stationed in the hall to give warning of any ap- 
proaching danger, and as the boys came in, one at a 
time, the room was soon filled. They donned their 
uniforms, and in silence waited for the “victim,” as 
they termed it, to be brought in. 


THE VOICE OF WARNING 


303 


The minutes passed on, but no one came. They were 
becoming impatient, when suddenly some one said, 
“Here they are,” and Ward looked quickly toward 
the open door. 

There stood Tim and Henry ! The door was closed 
before the latter could recover from his surprise, and 
with one violent push Tim sent him into the midst of 
the circle. As he fell against one boy he was pushed 
quickly on to another before he could recover himself. 
The “ sport ” had just begun, when the entire company 
was startled by one of their number suddenly calling 
out, ‘ ‘ Here, you stop that ! ’ ’ 

The boys looked up quickly. There stood Ward 
Hill, his mask torn from his face, and looking about 
him with angry glances. 

“ What’s the trouble now ? ” sneered Tim. “ What 
do you mean by interrupting us in this fashion ? ” 

‘ ‘ I mean what I say. This thing has got to stop. 
You let him alone,” said Ward. 

None of the other boys spoke, and then for a moment 
Ward and Tim were silent also, as they angrily faced 
each other. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


ANOTHER LOSS 

T HE silence lasted but a moment, and then the anger 
of the boys broke forth and there was a scene of 
confusion. The purpose of the meeting was forgotten, 
and the “ Tangs ” crowded about Tim and Ward, who 
had not seemed to regard the presence of the others, 
and had steadily watched each other as if each was 
afraid of some sudden movement that might result in 
serious trouble. 

“What do you mean?” Tim managed to say at 
last. “ You’ve turned saint all of a sudden.” 

“I’m no saint,” replied Ward, speaking calmly, in 
spite of the tumult in his own heart. “No one knows 
better than I do that I’m not that ; but I won’t stand 
by and see a fellow pitched upon by a lot of cowards, 
or let one fellow call in his gang to help him, when he’s 
too much of a sneak to stand up to the line and settle 
his score as a decent fellow ought to. You’re a cow- 
ard, and you know it.” 

“ Hit him, Tim ! ” “ Don’t stand it ! ” “ Give it 

to him ! ’ ’ cried some of the boys together, and Tim 
acted at first as if he was inclined to follow the advice. 
He advanced a step threateningly, but there was some- 
thing in the quiet bearing of Ward which seemed to 
hold him back. Perhaps Ward had spoken truly after 
304 


ANOTHER LOSS 


305 


all, and in spite of all his bravado, Tim was too much 
of a coward at heart to begin an attack on any one who 
did not appear to be afraid of him. 

The assurance that he was not alone, however, seemed 
to furnish him with the necessary impulse ; but just as 
he stepped forward, Jack, and two or three of the boys 
who had remained cool, threw themselves between them, 
and the trouble which threatened was prevented. There 
was, however, great confusion in the room, and all of 
the boys were talking at the same time, some threaten- 
ing and some striving to prevent an outbreak. 

“Your bird’s got away,” said Jack quickly. 
“ Henry’s gone and the game’s up.” 

“ And I’m going too. I’m done with this crowd 
forever,” said Ward, quietly removing his “ uniform ” 
and starting toward the door which Henry had left 
open when, taking advantage of the excitement, he 
had gone out of the room unobserved by any of them. 

Ward walked calmly to the door, never even glanc- 
ing behind him to see what the ‘ ‘ Tangs ’ ’ would do, 
and in a moment he was in the hall. He hesitated at 
first, but soon decided to remain by the entrance and 
await the outcome. He was thoroughly angry, and 
his heart was beating violently in his excitement, and 
yet there was a feeling of elation which possessed him 
and which he thoroughly enjoyed. It was the first 
time he had taken a firm stand since he had entered 
the school, and the result was one decidedly pleasurable. 
His excitement was yet too keen to permit him to take 
a calm view of what the probable effects of his action 
would be, but he felt that he was something of a hero, 
u 


306 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


and his pride was gratified. The “ Tangs ” soon be- 
gan to come out of the room, leaving singly or by twos, 
but they all passed without a word for him, although 
some of them glanced angrily at him. All but Tim 
were gone, and just as he came out into the hall, his 
mask still remaining upon his face, Mr. Blake and Big 
Smith entered together. 

“ What does this mean ? ” asked Mr. Blake in sur- 
prise, recognizing Tim at once. 

Tim hurriedly tore the mask from his face, and with- 
out waiting to reply, made a sudden dash out of the 
entrance and ran rapidly along the path which led to 
East Hall. 

4 ‘ Do you know anything of this, Hill ? ’ ’ inquired 
the teacher, turning to Ward. 

“I don’t think they have done anything very se- 
rious,” replied Ward. He spoke quietly, for he was 
calmer now and felt that he had won. He had com- 
pelled the ‘ ‘ Tangs ’ ’ to forego their cowardly treatment 
of Henry, and he could afford to be generous in his 
victory. 

“ This will have to be looked into,” said Mr. Blake, 
as he passed on to his room. 

Ward soon went to his room, and when once he was 
seated by his study table, the full force of what he had 
done came over him . He had broken wi th the * ‘ Tangs, ’ ’ 
and it was with a feeling of relief that he realized that. 
But what would be his position in the school now ? 
Time only could show, and sooner than he dreamed he 
learned what that was to be. 

At the breakfast table on the following morning 


ANOTHER LOSS 


307 


Henry and Ned Butler merely nodded to him, and that 
was all. Not a word did they say to him, and Ward 
soon realized that they had broken off all their friendly 
relations with him. 

He left the hall alone and filled with bitter thoughts. 
That was a great way to show gratitude, he thought. 
Henry ought to realize what he had saved him from. 
And it really had been a very generous action, he per- 
suaded himself. He had broken with the “Tangs” 
and cut loose from all his friends, and for what ? Just 
to save Henry from the punishment which Tim Pickard 
had wished to visit upon him. And this was all the 
appreciation Henry had of such a sacrificing act ! 
Very well, he could stand it if Henry could. He had 
done a great thing for him, and if he did not care to 
recognize it, he would try to show that he cared little 
about it. 

Plis trials, however, were to be multiplied, as he soon 
learned. When he met some of his former associates 
not one of them recognized him, save by a look of dis- 
like. Even Jack was very cool and had almost noth- 
ing to say to him. Ward felt that he was almost alone 
in the school. Henry and his friends were against him 
too, because they had not fully realized what it was 
that Ward had done, and had only known that he was 
one of the company which had tried to haze him. 

On the other hand, all the “Tangs” were angry 
because he had interfered with their plans and had 
openly declared that he would have nothing to do with 
them any more. 

If that was to be the result of trying to do right, 


308 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Ward thought, it did not pay very well. There were 
even moments when he almost regretted what he had 
done. He felt bitter and discouraged. His very first 
attempt to do right had plunged him into what he re- 
garded as the most serious trouble of his life, for what 
boy can bear the ill-will of his fellows ? The story had 
spread quickly through the school, and to Ward’s sen- 
sitive feelings it seemed as if every boy in the school 
had turned against him ; that is, all but Pond, who 
took especial pains to be friendly and to show his con- 
fidence in many quiet ways. 

Bitter as this experience was, there were things 
harder to be borne in store for him. 

“ Three of the fellows have resigned from the nine,” 
said Jack to him the next morning on their way to the 
Latin room. He was angry, and took no pains to con- 
ceal his feelings. 

“Who are they?” asked Ward quietly. He felt 
that he knew who they were, but he couldn’t prevent 
the question falling from his lips. 

“Ned Butler, Henry, and Sam Allen,” said Jack. 
“The nine’s up for this year. No game with the 
‘ Burrs.’ ” 

Ward made no reply. He knew why these boys had 
left the team. They did not wish to be on it if he 
was. There was one way out of that, he thought bit- 
terly, and he could and would take it. That same 
afternoon he wrote Tim Pickard a note resigning his 
position. It was a hard experience for the impulsive 
boy. No one of the players had been so enthusiastic 
as he. No one cared more for the good-will and good 


ANOTHER LOSS 


309 


opinion of his fellows. Indeed, praise was almost nec- 
essary to Ward, for instead of making him feel unduly 
elated, it acted as a stimulus. He had felt that if he 
had only gained a high rank at the beginning in his 
class-work it would have been much more easy for him 
to have maintained it, for he would have felt the im- 
pulse of success behind him. How different it all was 
now ! He had slipped steadily lower and lower in his 
class-room work, and now apparently he had lost the 
friendship of all the boys in the school. And for what ? 
Just for Henry, v T ho did not have the grace to appre- 
ciate what had been done for him. He felt thoroughly 
angry at him now. If he had it all to do over again 
he would leave him to his fate. 

Still further bad news awaited him. Two days after- 
ward Jack said to him : 

“ Tim’s left school ! ” 

“ Tim left school ! What for ? ” 

“He had a letter from his father yesterday. Dr. 
Gray had written him that he must take Tim out of the 
school, that he had been caught trying to haze some of 
the fellows, and that was the last straw, the doctor said. 
He must take him out quietly, or they would be com- 
pelled to expel him publicly.” 

Ward made no reply. Once more he realized, or 
thought he realized, that it was through him this new 
trouble had come. Tim was the best pitcher in the 
school, and the loss to the nine would be blamed upon 
him, and perhaps justly. 

“Yes, he’s gone ; and though it isn’t to be known 
that he’s expelled, I thought I’d tell you about it. 


310 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


His father wrote him a terrific letter, told him how 
completely disgusted he was with him, and how little 
he seemed to appreciate all that was being done for 
him. He threatened to put him into the machine 
shop or something of that kind and make him learn 
the trade. Just imagine Tim Pickard with a greasy 
apron on and his hands and face all black and grimy, ’ ’ 
and a faint smile crept over Jack’s face as he spoke. 

“ I suppose he blames me for it all, doesn’t he ? ” in- 
quired W ard softly. 

“ Yes ; and so do all the fellows, and so do I.” 

“ Oh, Jack ! ” was all the reply Ward made. He 
felt almost crushed now. If he did right, he was 
blamed, and if he did wrong it seemed to make but 
little difference ; he was blamed in either event. He 
had not had sufficient experience yet to enable him to 
look calmly at the events through which he was pass- 
ing and see them in their true light. The prejudice 
and feelings of the boys were but natural, or the results 
of natural mistakes, and Ward himself had not yet 
come to the time when he could know that the cause of 
the most of his sorrow lay not in the fact that he had 
entered upon evil ways, but that evil ways had brought 
him inevitably into trouble. 

From this time a shadow seemed to rest over all the 
school. The nine had been broken up, and the game 
with the ‘ ‘ Burrs, ’ ’ to which the school had looked for- 
ward all the year, was abandoned. And somehow the 
name of Ward Hill was linked with it all. He felt 
that he was blamed, and although he knew that he was 
blamed unjustly, he suffered none the less under its 


ANOTHER LOSS 


311 


penalty. There were times when he longed to go to 
Henry and explain exactly the true situation, but his 
false pride held him back, and the word was not 
spoken. Jack came occasionally to his room, but none 
of their interviews were very satisfactory. There was 
an air of constraint over both. Nothing was said now 
about Ward’s leaving his room in West Hall and going 
over to share Jack’s in East. And how confidently 
Jack had declared that as soon as Tim was gone Ward 
should be his room-mate. All those days were over 
now. 

Pond remained true and strong, however, and many 
were the long walks over the hills which he and Ward 
took together. And yet Ward did not thoroughly en- 
joy them, for he was suspicious that Pond was pitying 
him and trying to be more friendly because of his evi- 
dent loneliness. As a consequence, Ward took many 
a long tramp by himself. 

In this he had a double end in view. The first was his 
desire to be alone, and the second was the one purpose 
which had been growing stronger as the spring days 
went by. This was his determination to take the prize 
in the contest which would occur during the last week 
of the term. He had been recognized as one of the 
best speakers in the school, and he was determined to 
redeem himself now if such a thing were possible. 
There were to be ten contestants, and he felt confident 
that he would be one, and many an hour he spent in 
the woods far from the school practising the selection 
he had chosen. 

How proud his father would be if he should take the 


312 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


prize ! Already he could see the expression upon his 
face when his name should be announced as the winner. 
He appreciated his father’s love now more than ever he 
had done ; but not yet was Ward in the true position 
where he belonged, for as the days passed he was doing 
no better in his studies. To make up for all he had 
lost would require a great effort; and Ward, with his 
lonely position in the school, and feeling the injustice 
which was being done him, had not yet settled down 
to the steady line of duty, which after all has been 
said, is the greatest test of life. 

So the weeks went by, and as the end of the term 
came nearer his thoughts and efforts were more and 
more concentrated upon his declamation. He must 
win that prize. He wrote of it in his letters home, 
and it was finally settled that his father and mother 
were to be present, and to come with the father of 
Henry to Weston for the closing days. Henry as well 
as Ward had been among those selected in the “pre- 
liminaries,” as the trial contest was called, and the 
event was to be one of the greatest of the entire school 
year. 

Henry had worked steadily on in his classes, and 
while he had not been able to gain such a standing as 
Pond, who was the acknowledged leader, he still had a 
good position and was content. 

The time of the final examinations at last arrived 
and Ward knew he had done poorly, but he was not 
prepared for the blow which came the day after they 
were ended. 

Dr. Gray arose in the chapel, after the morning ex- 


ANOTHER LOSS 


313 


ercises, and began to speak. He told of his satisfac- 
tion in the progress of many of the boys, the hopes 
he had of the graduating class, and his feeling of sor- 
row for those who had failed to do justice to them- 
selves, to their parents, and to their teachers. 

Ward listened indifferently. He had become accus- 
tomed now to ‘ ‘ lectures, ’ ’ and to look upon himself as 
one who could have done if he had tried. “ He had the 
ability, but had not worked. ” His attention, how- 
ever, was arrested in a moment by the doctor’s words. 
He was reading the list of the contestants for the prize 
for declamation on the following evening. Name fol- 
lowed name, and still Ward did not hear his own called. 
The ten names at last were all read off, and Ward 
Hill’s was not among them. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE CONTEST 

F OR a moment Ward sat almost stunned by the 
words which he had just heard. His name was 
not on the list of speakers. All his long labor had 
been for naught. And how hopefully he had written 
home, and how confident he had been that he would 
redeem himself in a measure and would still do some- 
thing of which his father would feel proud, and which 
in a measure would compensate him for the bitter dis- 
appointment W ard knew he had suffered from his fail- 
ures of the year. His year had been a failure in 
large measure ; even Ward could not conceal that fact 
from himself. He noticed a glance of deep sympathy 
and disappointment from Pond, but he was too nearly 
heartbroken to respond. He had never felt so utterly 
crushed before in all his life. 

The doctor’s words were ended now, and Ward real- 
ized that the boys w r ere passing out of the chapel. His 
seatmates crowded past him eager to join the outgoing 
throng and giving but slight heed to Ward, who had 
not risen as he usually had done and been among the 
first to leave. Still he sat in his seat, almost dazed and 
hardly realizing what was going on about him. 

Dimly conscious as he was of the bustle and stir among 
the students, he was fully aware of the pain and despair 
314 


THE CONTEST 


315 


in his own heart, and at last, when nearly all had gone 
out, he suddenly started toward Dr. Gray, who was yet 
lingering near the platform. 

“ Dr. Gray, wasn’t there some mistake ? My name 
wasn’t in the list of those who are to speak this even- 
ing for the prize. Won’t you please look again and 
see if it isn’t there ? ” 

The principal turned quickly as he heard the voice 
of the heartbroken boy who could scarcely hold back 
a sob, and at once recognizing him, placed his hand 
gently upon Ward’s shoulder, and speaking in a voice 
of deep sympathy said : “ No, my boy. There’s no 
mistake. Your name is not there.” 

“But why not, doctor?” pleaded Ward. “I’ve 
done well in my declamations all through the year, and 
the fellows all say they think I’m one of the best speak- 
ers in the class.” 

‘ ‘ There is no doubt about that. But, Hill, you 
know of the rule that does not permit any one to speak 
for the prize if he fails to pass his class examinations, 
don’t you ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Ward. “Didn’t I pass my final 
examinations, doctor? ” 

“No,” answered Dr. Gray quietly. He said no 
more, and in a moment Ward turned and walked slowly 
down the aisle and out of the chapel. There were to 
be no examinations on that day, as the three remaining 
days of the week were to be given up to the closing 
exercises of the school. Ward rejoiced that he was to 
be left to himself for a time at least, and he quickly re- 
solved to go up to the “ glen,” a beautiful and lonely 


316 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


spot on the side of one of the hills, where many a time 
he had been before, but under what different circum- 
stances. He had been unconscious of the long look 
with which Dr. Gray had followed him as he walked 
slowly down the aisle, nor had he seen how the good 
man’s face grew soft and his eyes filled with tears as he 
watched him until he had passed beyond his sight. 
“ It’s hard,” murmured the doctor ; “ and I can only 
hope the lesson may not be entirely lost.” 

Ward walked rapidly along the dusty road and soon 
began to climb the hillside. The summer sun was high 
in the heavens now and the landscape was all soft and 
mellow under its beams As he gradually climbed up- 
ward, below him he could see the winding streams, the 
farmers at work in their fields, and far away rose the 
spires of the school buildings above the mass of green 
which concealed all else from his view. 

But the peacefulness of the outer scene found no 
response within the troubled heart of Ward Hill. As 
soon as he arrived at the spring, which lay in the center 
of the glen, he threw himself wearily upon the ground, 
and casting the little pebbles which he had gathered in 
his hand, one by one into the water, he began to try to 
think calmly of the things he must face. 

The more he thought the more miserable he became. 
In his mind he went over all the experiences of the 
year, his disappointment in not being able to enter the 
fourth year, his determination to do his best in the class 
to which he had been assigned, his gradual but sure 
neglect of his work, and the outcome of his associa- 
tions with the ‘ ‘ Tangs. ’ ’ And uppermost in his 


THE CONTEST 


317 


thoughts was that expression Ned Butler had used 
the very first night he had met him, and how he had 
told him, as the result of his own experience, that the 
whole matter of success or failure at Weston would 
turn almost entirely upon his ability to use those little 
words, * ‘ yes ” or “ no ’ ’ at the very beginning of his 
course. Ward had not used them. 

He could see it all, to a degree at least, now. All 
the long list of failures might have been avoided if 
he only had been decided at the first. He thought of 
Pond. What a fine fellow he was ! So quiet and yet 
so firm, he had held himself steadily to his work, and 
yet had been one of the most popular fellows in all the 
school. Then Ward thought of the position which he 
himself occupied in the school, quietly avoided by 
most of the boys whose good opinion he most valued, 
and openly disliked by the most of those who had been 
his companions. Even Henry, with his plodding ways, 
was far in advance of him. He was not a boy who 
had made many close friends, and yet he had a few, 
Ned Butler, for example ; and Ward knew that he was 
thoroughly respected by all the school. 

Perhaps his bitterest thoughts were of Jack. The 
generous, open-hearted boy, disposed to shirk all hard 
work and yet, although easily led, never inclined to 
anything mean or small, had appealed to him as had 
few of the boys in the school. And even Jack had 
turned against him now. 

The hours slowly passed and still Ward lingered in 
the glen. He was alone with his own thoughts, and 
while they were not good company, he was, for the first 


318 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


time in his life, coming to look upon himself and them 
in their true light. 

When at last he arose to return to Weston, it was 
long after the dinner hour, but Ward thought little of 
that. Hunger had not troubled him, and he had 
hardly been conscious of the fact that much of the day 
was gone. Soon the stage would come, and on it would 
be his father and mother. How could he meet them ? 
Yet meet them he must. There was no escape from 
that now. 

When Ward entered the village he saw that already 
many of the visitors, who thronged Weston during the 
closing days of the school, had arrived. There were 
old and gray -headed men, who many years before had 
been students in the school and had now returned to 
revisit the scenes of their early days. There were 
boys with their fathers and mothers and sisters and 
younger brothers, these last perhaps looking with curi- 
ous eyes about the school buildings and grounds, and 
eagerly awaiting the time when they too should be en- 
rolled among the boys of the Weston school. And 
every one seemed to be so happy. The sight was more 
than the unhappy Ward could bear, and rushing up to 
his room he threw himself upon the bed in a fresh out- 
burst of despair. 

There was one comfort, and that was that he would 
not be compelled to meet the other boys at the dining 
hall that night. His father and mother would soon be 
there, and he would take his supper with them at the 
hotel, where already rooms had been reserved for them. 
But that meeting with them ! How could he ever bear 


THE CONTEST 


319 


it? Bear it, however, he must, and the time would 
soon be there. 

As the dusk drew on Ward went up to the hotel and 
waited for the coming of the stage. He avoided the 
other boys who were there on a similar errand, and 
slowly paced back and forth along the piazza, trying 
vainly to think of something he could say to his father. 
Nothing however had suggested itself when at last the 
old stage-coach came within sight. It was loaded with 
passengers, and he thought bitterly of his own first ride 
into Weston. There was some difference between the 
Ward Hill he then was and the Ward Hill he now saw 
himself to be. 

The coach stopped at East Hall, and he saw several 
men leap down as if they were boys again. Then the 
stage made another stop at Wtfst Hall, and at last it 
was coming directly toward the hotel. 

It stopped before the high steps, and there was a rush 
by the waiting boys toward the passengers, although 
Ward lingered on the outskirts of the crowd. He saw 
Ned Butler suddenly grasp a broad-shouldered man, 
whom Ward at once concluded must be his father, about 
the neck and kiss him as if he were a little fellow. His 
own eyes were moist, for he knew the welcome he had 
to give would be of a far different character. There 
was Hr. Boyd, and Henry had seized upon him in a 
moment, and yes, there too were his own father and 
mother. Travel -stained and evidently tired by their 
long journey, there yet was an eager expression upon 
their faces as they looked about them for their boy. 

“Here I am, mother,” called Ward, and in a mo- 


320 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


ment he was folded within her embrace and had wel- 
comed his father. How good it seemed to be with 
them again ! How strong their love was ! He almost 
groaned as he thought of what he had to tell them. 
What a change it would make, and they were so happy 
now and their welcome was so warm. He quickly took 
their bags and led the way to their room. As soon as 
they had entered and closed the dooB, his mother again 
took his face within her hands and kissed him, just as 
Ward remembered she used to do when he was a little 
boy at home. How could he bear it ? 

Holding him out at arm’s length to look at him 
again, his mother suddenly said : “Why, Ward, you 
look ill ! Are you sick ? ’ ’ She spoke anxiously, and 
for a moment he could not reply. 

At last he recovered himself, and in a trembling 
voice said : “ Yes, I’m sick, sick at heart, anyway. I 
never was so wretched and unhappy in all my life be- 
fore.” 

“What is it, Ward?” It was his father who 
spoke, and Ward knew that the time which he had been 
dreading had arrived. 

“ Oh, father, I’m not to speak to-night. My name’s 
not on the list.” 

“Why not?” 

“ I failed in my examinations, and they won’t let a 
fellow speak then.” 

“ Oh, Ward ! ” was all the reply his mother made, 
while his father remained silent. But Ward could see 
that his face was very pale and there was a look of deep 
pain upon it. A silence of several moments followed, 


THE CONTEST 


321 


Ward trying to think of something in the way of an 
excuse, and then his father said : “Well, Ward, you 
may go down and wait for us. We’ll be down soon.” 

Ward walked slowly out of the room and quietly 
closed the door. The word had been spoken at last. 
With all his remorse there yet was a feeling of relief, 
but the pain of his father and mother had only begun. 
In a few minutes they came down the stairs, and as 
Ward joined them he could see that his mother had 
been weeping. They entered the dining room together, 
and as soon as they had been seated, Ward looked 
about him at the inspiring scene. What happiness 
was written everywhere ! Boys with their parents and 
friends ! and the delight at meeting again was apparent 
on every side. Near him were Ned and his father, and 
Henry and Dr. Boyd, and how proud the men were. 
Ward glanced for a moment at his own father and 
mother, and realized what a difference there was. And 
they too might have been as glad and proud as any 
in the room. And why were they not? Ward knew 
only too well. 

Soon after supper, the people began to make their 
way toward the village church in which the contest was 
to take place. Ward and his parents went with the 
others, and were assigned seats in the middle of the 
house. He was utterly wretched and would not have 
come had not his father insisted upon it. There was a 
buzz of interest and excitement in all the audience. 
There was music too, to enliven the occasion, and when 
Dr. Gray at last arose to announce the first speaker, 
the building was filled to its utmost capacity. 

v 


322 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Big Smith was to speak first. Conscious of him- 
self and with his deepest and most sepulchral tones, he 
began to recite the speech of Regulus to the Cartha- 
ginians. His deep tones and sing-song utterances soon 
became monotonous ; but Big Smith was unabashed by 
the smiles that soon could be seen in various parts of the 
audience, and when applause was given him at the 
close, he returned and bowed, and then left the plat- 
form in a state of great elation. 

Pond followed him in a speech that was simple and 
unpretentious, and while every one listened attentively, 
Ward was hardly prepared for the burst of applause 
that followed him as he too left the platform. 

Henry was the next to speak, and Ward sat watching 
his father, who could not conceal the pride and satisfac- 
tion he felt. Ward was too bitter to note how well 
Henry was doing, and indeed scarcely listened to the 
seven speakers that followed. 

At last the contest was ended, the judges retired to 
prepare their decision, and Dr. Gray arose to announce 
the other prizes of the school year. He was listened 
to with close attention, applause following each an- 
nouncement. Pond had received the prize in his class, 
and Ward joined in the general approbation. 

“ Here they come,” he heard some one near him 
whisper, and glancing up, saw the judges returning to 
the platform. An intense silence followed the words of 
Dr. Gray as he said : “We will now listen to the de- 
cision of the committee ; Judge Butler, the chairman, 
will make the announcement.” 

Ned’s father said but few words by way of introduc- 


THE CONTEST 


323 


tion, merely stating the different points which the com- 
mittee had marked, and then said : “ For naturalness, 
simplicity, clearness, and the bringing out of the mean- 
ing of the selection chosen, the committee is unanimous 
in awarding the first prize to ” — he hesitated a moment 
and the silence became intense — “to Russell Pond.” 

A loud burst of applause greeted him, and then he 
went on : “ The committee were not of one mind as to 
the second prize, but by a majority vote that prize is 
awarded to — Henry Boyd.” 

The applause was renewed, but in milder form ; 
and as soon as the last words had been pronounced, 
the audience, still buzzing with excitement, began to 
pass out. 

Ward would gladly have been among the first to go, 
but his father quietly insisted upon remaining, though 
for what purpose he could not determine. Ward stood 
and watched the people as they passed him. They all 
were discussing the award, and for the most part seemed 
to agree with the judges. About half of them had 
gone, when Ward saw Big Smith coming down the 
aisle with a large, pompous man whom he had no diffi- 
culty in recognizing as his father. He was gesticulat- 
ing violently and talking in a loud voice. 

“Those judges know no more about oratory than — 
than — than an old cow.” 

Ward laughed outright. It was the first time in sev- 
eral days that he had done such a thing, and he was 
sorry the moment it was done. Big Smith was in 
front of him, and turning quickly about said angrily : 
“ You needn’t laugh, Ward Hill. I got on to the list 


324 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


anyway, and I didn’t get conditioned in my examina- 
tion, if I didn’t take this prize, which I deserved.” 

‘ ‘ He ought to have had it ; he earned it ; he was 
the best speaker on the list,” added the senior Smith 
in a voice louder than before ; and the humiliation which 
Ward had felt at Big Smith’s words was in a degree 
lightened as he saw an amused smile creep over his own 
father’s face. 

‘‘Here, Ward, you take your mother back to the 
hotel. Here comes Dr. Gray, and I want to speak to 
him,” said his father when he saw the principal ap- 
proaching. 

Relieved at the prospect of being freed from the 
crowd, Ward eagerly led the way, and with his mother 
started down the aisle. He stopped a moment by the 
door, and looking back saw his father and Dr. Gray 
standing together and talking earnestly, the principal 
holding fast to his father’s hand. With a sinking 
heart he realized that doubtless he himself was the sub- 
ject of their conversation. 


CHAPTER XXXIY 


CONCLUSION 

W ARD’S surmise was correct, and for a long time 
the two men stood and talked about his life and 
work during the school year at Weston. As Dr. Gray 
and Mr. Hill had been schoolboys together, the old 
friendship asserted itself, and their conversation was 
free and confidential, such as can be had only by those 
whose friendship has been a matter of years. And 
after all has been said, it is still true that the friendships 
of early life are almost the only ones capable of being 
formed, for as men grow older they easily make ac- 
quaintances, but seldom make friends. 

Dr. Gray tried to be entirely frank, and while he 
confessed his bitter disappointment over Ward’s failure, 
he still was not entirely hopeless concerning his future. 

“I’ll tell you what it is, Hill,” said the doctor, 
taking his friend by the arm familiarly, as he had done 
in the bygone years, when at last they had started to 
leave the building, “I’m not excusing the boy. He 
has enough to answer for ; he knows that, and so do 
you and I ; but I must tell you frankly, that I don’t 
think his father has been entirely free from blame. ’ ’ 
“What do you mean? I’ve always tried to do my 
best for the boy.” 

“ As you saw it, yes. But sometimes the most 

325 


326 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


troublesome cases in our school are not those which 
come from the indifferent homes, but from what are 
considered the best. Where you have been weak is in 
this : you have kept your boy carefully from all evil, 
and that is right. I say no word against that, you 
understand. But there is a vast difference between 
keeping him from evil and training him to meet it. 
Ignorance is not strength, and Ward has done what I 
have seen others do, that is, go to pieces when he has 
been left free to decide for himself. Before he came 
here he did right because his father decided for him. 
Since he has been here, he has done wrong because he 
has not decided for himself.” 

“Perhaps you are right,” replied Mr. Hill slowly, 
as he grasped his friend’s hand. They were standing 
before his house now and were about to part. “ Good- 
night,” added Mr. Hill. 

“ Good -night,” replied the doctor. “Remember 
you all are to dine with us to-morrow night.” 

Mr. Hill soon rejoined Ward and his mother, whom 
he found sitting at one end of the long piazza of the 
hotel. The air of the summer night was warm, and 
for some time they sat there in silence watching the 
busy throng of young people and their elders who were 
walking on the piazza or standing together and chatting 
gayly about the events of the evening. It was a beau- 
tiful and stirring scene and Ward felt his disgrace the 
more keenly because he had no share in it all. If he 
had only kept steadily to his work he too would have 
been one of the happiest of them all, instead of sit- 
ting silent and alone with his parents, only too glad to 


CONCLUSION 


327 


escape all observation ; and they too would not have felt 
the disgrace of his failure. But Ward was now blaming 
himself alone for it all, and perhaps the lesson would 
not be entirely lost, although all the benefits he might 
have gained from the year were gone beyond recall. 

“I’ve just had a long talk with Dr. Gray,” said Mr. 
Hill at last breaking the silence. 

Ward made no reply. It was the first time his father 
had spoken of his failure, and he must bear it as best 
he could. He could perceive, however, from the tones 
of his father’s voice that he was in distress, and Ward 
felt that his own cup of bitterness was filled to over- 
flowing. 

“Yes,” resumed Mr. Hill, “he has been been bit- 
terly disappointed in' you, Ward, as we all have been. 
We had counted so much upon your success, and he 
says the general verdict of the school is that you could 
have done well. Now it rests with yourself, Ward, 
whether you go on or not. I have not the means to 
squander on you, my boy, and do not care to push you 
on unless you care to go. Not that I shall not stand 
by your side, Ward ; I shall do that always. If you 
were to be led to the gallows, the last face you would 
see on earth would be your father’s. I do not mean to 
reproach you, my boy. Doubtless you are suffering as 
much, or more, than any of us. It is only a question 
of what you decide to do. ’ ’ 

Ward started to reply, but soon found that he could 
not control his voice. He hastily grasped his father’s 
hand, and after kissing his mother, ran quickly down 
the steps and started for his room in West Hall. It 


328 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


had been in his heart to confess it all to his father, and 
promise to do better. But what good would a promise 
do ? He had promised confidently many times before, 
and where were all his good words now ? No ; it was 
better not to say what he would do, but to show by 
his actions that he was now in earnest. 

The long hours of the night passed, but sleep would 
not come to Ward. Again and again all his failures 
came trooping up and stood before him. Was it true 
that he was bound to make a failure of life ? Was suc- 
cess never to be his ? And then too, there was the last 
word of his father that “ he should stand by him to the 
end.” But he would suffer none the less if he did 
cling to him. And what a return he was making for 
all the love and sacrifice of such a father and mother as 
he had ! 

He saw it all now. All his neglect, his cowardice, 
his lack of decision, his selfishness, all stood out before 
him. What could he do? Was there no one to help 
him ? Suddenly he thought of Mr. Crane. How he 
had neglected all his advice and offers of aid. There 
was no one of the teachers whom he respected more. 
Would he help him now? He would go to him in the 
morning and tell him all. Perhaps he would still be 
willing to listen; and with this thought, Ward at last 
fell asleep. 

After his breakfast the next morning he hastened to 
the hotel. His father and mother were waiting for 
him, for he was to show them his room and about the 
school grounds. In the afternoon there was to be an 
address, and in the evening a concert. 


CONCLUSION 


329 


As soon as Ward had led the way and shown them 
all there was to be seen, he excused himself and started 
for the room of Mr. Crane. His heart was beating 
violently and his good resolution almost failed, but 
summoning all his courage, he at last rapped so loudly 
upon the door, that Mr. Crane quickly opened it, 
almost startled at the loud summons. 

“Oh, good-morning, Hill,” he said pleasantly. 
“You almost upset me by your knock.” 

“ Are you busy, Mr. Crane? If you are, I’ll come 
some other time.” 

“Not too busy to see you. Come in, Hill,” and 
the teacher led him into his private class-room. 

“I’ve come,” said Ward, determined to have the 
matter out at once, ‘ ‘ to tell you all about it. ’ ’ He 
glanced up and saw that Mr. Crane was regarding him 
quietly, but the expression on his face was not for- 
bidding, and Ward went on. He told the story of his 
school life from the beginning, as if Mr. Crane had no 
knowledge of it. He did not mention any of the 
names of the boys, but he related how he had joined 
the “ Tangs,” and entered into many of their pranks. 
He put forth no excuses for himself, and did not even 
mention some of his better deeds. His failures, his 
weakness, his neglect — all came out in the course of 
his rapid and almost incoherent story, and then at last 
he said : “And there’s one thing more, Mr. Crane.” 
The teacher was still silent, and without looking at 
him, Ward said: “I tried to steal the examination 
papers last term too.” 

“ I knew that,” replied Mr. Crane quietly. 


330 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


“ You knew it ? ” asked Ward in surprise. 

“Yes. I was standing by my window that evening, 
and suddenly saw a light in the Latin room. It 
flashed into my mind at once what was going on, and 
when I saw three boys creep out of the window, then 
I knew. I saw you all as you went around the 
corner. ’ ’ 

4 ‘ And you never told of it, Mr. Crane ! ’ ’ said 
Ward again, with increased surprise. 

“No,” said Mr. Crane softly. “I don’t know 
that I did right; but I was hoping all the time for 
better things.” 

£ ‘ And you were only disappointed after all, ” said 
Ward with something that sounded very like a sob. 

“And I was only disappointed after all,” repeated 
the teacher quietly. 

There was a silence for a moment and then Ward 
said: “Now, Mr. Crane, you know it all. I haven’t 
kept back a thing. It’s too late now to do any good, 
for I don’t know what I shall do next year, but I 
didn’t feel that I could go home till I had made a clean 
breast of it to you.” 

“Well, Hill, it’s a sad story, though I can’t say 
I’m sorry you told me, though you haven’t told me 
much that I didn’t know before. I don’t know just 
how you feel, for I haven’t been in the same place. 
Perhaps it’s no credit to me, and yet I can say it. 
The disappointment and suffering of your father and 
mother any one can see.” 

“ Don’t, oh, don’t, Mr. Crane ! ” groaned Ward 
dropping his head upon the table and sobbing aloud. 

















* 







1 







“What is that, Mr. Crane?” 


said Ward, looking 


Page 331. 


up. 



CONCLUSION 


331 


Mr. Crane watched him silently a moment, and 
Ward could not see that his own eyes were moist ; but 
when the sobbing boy became a little more quiet, he 
said : “ I’m not reproaching you, Hill. Who am I to 
do that? I only want to help you, that is all. But 
there is one thing you said which is not true.” 

“ What is that, Mr. Crane ? ” said Ward looking up 
in surprise and pain. 

“ What you said about your next year. You do 
know what you’ll do, or I at least do, I’m sure.” 

“No, I don’t, Mr. Crane,” pleaded Ward. “My 
father said he’d always stand by me, but that he 
should not send me on through school or college unless 
I cared to go.” 

“ Of course he won’t send you on any other con- 
dition. But there is to be no other, Hill.” 

“What do you mean ? ” 

“ Only this. You have now for the first time come 
to yourself. You see what you’ve done, just as it is. 
Now what you are going to do, Hill, is just this. You 
are going to study up during the summer, and pass 
your examinations when you come back and go on with 
your class.” 

“Do you think I can?” Ward had risen in his 
eagerness and stood facing his teacher. 

“ I know you can, and it’s just what you must do.” 

“I’ll ” Ward started to promise, but quickly re- 

calling how many times he had promised before, his 
face flushed and he became quiet. 

“I know,” said Mr. Crane quietly. “I know 
what you would say. Now write me just as often as 


332 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


you please, or need, during the summer, and count on 
me as your friend every time. ’ ’ 

“Thank you,” said Ward quietly taking the prof- 
fered hand. “Good-bye, Mr. Crane.” 

“Good-bye, Hill,” and Ward hastened out of the 
building with a new light on his face and a new glow 
in his heart. Mr. Crane would help him ! He felt 
stronger already. 

He saw Jack coming up the street, and his heart 
sank again. Could he ever come back to Weston again 
with all the boys against him ? If he could only go to 
some other school and start afresh there, the problem 
would be so much more easy. 

“ I say, Ward, I want to see you,” said Jack as he 
approached. 

“ What is it, Speck ? ” 

“ I must get this thing off my mind. I’ve been all 
broken up. The truth is, Ward — I — I — haven’t just 
done the square thing by you. I didn’t mean to go 
back on you, but somehow I was just pushed into it. 
I want to know if you’ll call it all square now ? ” 

“It’s been all square, Jack,” replied Ward. “I 
had no one to blame but myself. ’ ’ 

“No, I’m to blame too, Ward. I had no business 
to keep still, and I’ve told Ned and Henry all about 
it too, and I think they feel better. And Ward, I 
want you to come and visit me this summer, will 
you ? ” 

“I can’t,” replied Ward quietly. “ I didn’t pass 
my examinations, and if I come back — I don’t know 
yet whether I shall or not — but if I do, I’ve got to 


CONCLUSION 


333 


work all summer. I thank you just the same, Jack,” 
he added hastily, seeing the look of disappointment on 
his face. 

“ I was lucky enough to get through this year,” re- 
plied Jack ; “ but, Ward, you’ll come back, won’t 
you ? Don’t fail, old fellow ! It’ll break my heart if 
you don’t come. And you’ll room with me too, won’t 
you, Ward? I’m going to try and do better next 
year, and I want you to help me.” 

Ward smiled at the thought of his helping Jack, but 
he said : “No, Speck ; if I do come back, I’m going 
into the old room and try to face the whole thing. 
Perhaps I sha’n’t come, though,” he added thought- 
fully. 

“You must come, Ward. Now write me this sum- 
mer. I’ve got to leave on the next stage. Promise 
me you will. Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye, Jack; I’ll write,” and then the boys 
clasped hands for a moment, each noticing a new light 
in the other’s eyes. 

The dinner at Dr. Gray’s was not very enjoyable 
to Ward, but he went as in duty bound. Henry and 
his father were there, but the boys excused themselves 
early in the evening and went over by the chapel. 
They said but little to each other, although Ward 
thought he detected a change in Henry and a desire to 
speak of something which he thought he knew ; but the 
word was not spoken, and when they came near to the 
chapel steps they saw a crowd of the boys assembled 
there. Seated on the higher steps were the forty boys 
of the graduating class. In a moment they broke into 


334 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


a song, and for an hour sang on together. It was the 
custom of the school, and each year the graduating 
class had its final “ sing ” on the evening preceding the 
exercises of the last day. 

Ward listened but could not join in the songs. To 
him there was something indescribably sad in it all. 
Would he be there next year? And these fellows with 
whom he had been associated for a year now were to 
leave, and all the old associations were to be broken. 

At last the hour closed and the forty boys, their en- 
mities and rivalries all forgotten now, stood up, and 
clasping hands and standing in a circle sang ‘ ‘ Home, 
Sweet Home.” Ward was listening, and yet only par- 
tially hearing it all. His own heart was tender now, 
and the failure of the year was not forgotten. Soon 
the voices were hushed as they took up the last stanza, 
then the song drew to its close, the school cheer was 
given, and the class broke up its last meeting. 

Ward said nothing to his parents of his interview 
with Mr. Crane when he went up to the hotel for them 
to go to the concert. He was strangely silent the next 
day too during the final exercises. He knew that Ned 
had done well and all had applauded him, but that was 
about all. 

He was startled when a little later some one slipped 
quietly into the seat beside him, and looking up he saw 
Ned Butler. “ Ward,” said Ned, “ I’m going soon ; 
but I wanted to say to you that I’ve been wrong.” 

“No, Ned,” replied Ward quietly ; “I was wrong, 
and I know it now.” 

“You’re coming back next year ? ” 


CONCLUSION 


335 


“ I don’t know. I can’t tell yet.” 

“ Come, Ward. Take hold as we all know you can. 
And then next year you’ll be coming up to college 
where I am. Come, Ward. Good-bye, old fellow.” 

“ Good-bye,” whispered Ward, grasping his hand 
for a moment. 

The day was oyer at last and the people were depart- 
ing. Ward bade each teacher farewell, even seeking 
out Mr. Blake, whom he had neither liked nor respected. 
He did not appear like the Ward of old, and time only 
could show whether the purpose which was in his heart 
would be carried out. 

Pond had already gone, and his last words had been 
in extracting a promise from W ard to write him during 
the summer. 

Early the following morning Ward too was to go, 
and before sunrise Ward assisted his father and mother 
into the stage and then clambered up on top. Beside 
him sat Big Smith, and he was inclined to draw back 
at first, but thinking better of it, he took his seat be- 
side him. 

“I say, Ward,” said Big Smith, “are you coming 
back next year? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“Neither do I. My father says I was robbed of 
that prize. I don’t want to be in a school where they 
rob you in that way.” 

Ward was not listening. The stage had just reached 
the top of the hill, and he looked back for the last 
view of Weston. The sun was just appearing upon the 
eastern sky and all the valley was bathed in its glory. 


336 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 


Above the foliage appeared the towers and spires of 
the Weston school. There he had met his defeats and 
formed his friendships and made his failures. And yet 
what a year it had been ! The sunlight seemed to cover 
it all, and Ward’s heart became tender under its influ- 
ence. Behind him lay the valley. Far away was 
the Hump, and the Glen could be seen almost like a 
scar on the hillside. And he was leaving it all behind 
him now. Failure, disgrace, confession, promise — all 
were behind. Was the best of life there too ? 

With a sigh Ward turned as the valley disappeared 
from sight, and full on his face fell the beams of the 
rising sun. 

For those who have been interested in following the 
events of Ward Hill’s life at Weston during his first 
year in the school, and who perhaps would be pleased 
to follow his course still farther, we may say that a 
record of what he did has been made and will appear 
in a book which will be called : Ward Hill, The 
Senior. 

Whether he kept his promise, what his experiences 
were, who were the new friends he made and the old 
friends he retained, his failures and falls, his successes 
and rewards, his rivalries and adventures, are all re- 
corded there ; and doubtless as he has been willing for 
us to follow him thus far in his career, he will make no 
serious objection to any who may care to accompany 
him still farther. 


' r. 7 90 
















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